


Beyond the Garden Walls

by Problem_Starchild



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Earthborn (Mass Effect), F/F, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Past Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard, Polyamory, Slow Burn, War Hero (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2020-06-29 07:46:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 139,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Problem_Starchild/pseuds/Problem_Starchild
Summary: Tali supports the turian’s weight as Shepard moves forward, but she can’t hear what she’s saying through the noise — her focus is on Garrus, the blue and silver of his armor charred black and smoking, red spots where the metal is melted and still burning from the proximity to the explosion. It takes all of her willpower to ignore the pain of her own burns and keep him from surging forward to follow Shepard back into the fire.





	1. Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year is 2186. The Normandy makes its escape from the Sol System and lives to see another day, for better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a Destroy ending fix-it fic, endgame Tali/Shepard/Garrus triad and past Shenko. Tali POV; a slow burn exploration of developing her feelings toward Shepard over the course of the trilogy. Rating reflects expected future developments.

Her ears ring, her skin burns, her bones ache.

“Here, take him.”

“Shepard…”

His voice has a fear in it that Tali has never heard before. Not when Saren rose from the dead, not on the Collector base, not even when Shepard stumbled out the door at Atlas Station and it had locked behind her. There was something there when they arrived back from Despoina, but that was an uneasy protectiveness, a resolution to do better, to be more vigilant. Never _desperate_.

“You’ve gotta get out of here.”

“And you’ve gotta be _kidding_ me.”

“Don’t argue, Garrus.”

“We’re in this til the end," and it's not a statement, it's a demand.

The ambient sound of the ship and the war around them grows deafening as the Normandy prepares its escape - the rest of the crew is safely aboard and the Normandy is practically begging to get back in the fight.

“No matter what happens here—“

Tali supports the turian’s weight as Shepard moves forward, but she can’t hear what she’s saying through the noise — her focus is on Garrus, the blue and silver of his armor charred black and smoking, red spots where the metal is melted and still burning from the proximity to the explosion. It takes all of her willpower to ignore the pain of her own burns and keep him from surging forward to follow Shepard back into the fire.

“…love you too,” Tali picks up — Garrus, hoarse — and Shepard clears the cargo bay door in a flash of coal gray and crimson as she and the Normandy each return to the fight.

Garrus slumps hard against her once Shepard is out of sight and Tali has to shove him back upright with her full body weight, bringing her free hand down to start undoing the clasps of his chestpiece. Only the adrenaline of yet another near-death experience gives her the strength to do both at once.

“Keelah, wake _up_ , Garrus, your armor is _melting!_ ”

He’s dazed, but her jostling seems to rouse him enough to help. Tali struggles with a clasp that was blasted out of shape in the explosion and manages to get his chest armor undone, working with him to hastily remove it from his frame. Just in time, as well - parts of his black bodysuit had been singed from dripping pieces of molten metal. The glowing edge of a burnt piece of fabric catches fire with exposure to the air and Tali extinguishes it with her palm, earning an audible hiss from Garrus.

The rest of his armor comes off without any surprises and Tali can hear the Thannix cannon firing off above them in long, vengeful pulses, singing its molten fury to the stars. Supporting his weight again, she leaves the pieces on the floor of the cargo bay and helps him limp to the elevator.

“Let me give you a hand, there, Sparks.”

The weight lessens significantly as Vega sweeps an arm beside hers, supporting far more of Garrus’ body weight on his side and her, by proxy.

“We need to get him to the med bay,” and maybe it’s redundant to shout that, but Garrus isn’t talking and the whiplash from being shot at by a Reaper to suddenly being in near perfect silence is tripping her up.

“Aye aye,” and Vega doesn’t even need to hit the button for the crew deck before EDI is sending the elevator up herself. If he’s shaken by leaving Shepard behind, he’s doing a much better job hiding it than she is.

* * *

Tali patches herself up on top of one of the cots in the med bay, out of the way, but still close enough to keep an eye on Garrus. Dr. Chakwas has cut away the upper portion of his bodysuit and is tending to burns; the thulium-dense natural plating is resistant to heat, but less so to direct sustained contact with fire. Tali has her own problems, but she finds herself watching his face for signs of pain – remarkably, his face took no damage, though at the cost of several burns on his left arm. 

The scrap material from his bodysuit is balled up in his hand and he’s just digging his claws into it, staring at the ceiling, mandibles flicking in time to something Tali just isn’t privy to. She takes a look at his raised and splinted leg again, how his talons keep twitching, how sharp they must be. Dr. Chakwas doesn’t seem concerned.

“You hurt under there?”

She turns her stare from Garrus, realizing only now how close Vega actually is compared to how far away he sounded. Perhaps her hearing was damaged in the explosion. 

“Suit ruptures, burns, bruises. I’ve repaired the breaches and applied medi-gel to the worst areas. I don’t think I broke anything, but even if I did, I would need to be dropped off at one of the liveships for treatment in a clean-room, and they’re… busy.”

The Normandy is busy, too, but Tali’s heavy heart goes out to the brave engineers trying to keep the agricultural ships intact long enough to get off some fire. The flotilla has always been well maintained, but maintenance can only go so far in keeping centuries-old vessels spaceworthy, let alone prepared to evade fire against Reapers. _Especially_ when their primary purpose is to grow nuts and fruits.

If the civilian fleet is wiped out, what will happen? If just the liveships are destroyed in this assault on Earth, there’s no guarantee that the seeds stored on the agricultural vessels still grow on Rannoch after all this time. Even if they do, they’ve likely evolved to find a new way to spread after nearly 300 years without quarians, the difference in diet will be difficult to adjust to, and that’s assuming they hadn’t simply gone _extinct_ in their absence– would her people have _anything_ to eat on Rannoch without the sterilization facilities present on the ships? And--

“Hey.” Vega places a five-fingered hand on the end of the stiff bedding, leaning in with an uncharacteristically serious look in his eyes. “Hey. It’s gonna be _fine._ I’m sure the good doctor can figure something out.”

Tali nods, but she’s spent long enough playing ambassador to the rest of the galaxy to know not to voice her doubts. She sets aside the unused medi-gel and antihistamines, lowering herself to the ground.

“Thank you for the supplies, Dr. Chakwas. I should get to the engineering deck and see if I can help Adams with anything.”

She turns her gaze to Vega, then sharply drags it back to Garrus, and then back to Vega. His body language stiffens up the way it does when Shepard issues a command. Exhausted, she's grateful that some body language is universal.

“I’m not much good until we touch down again, so I'll be sticking round.” He crosses his arms and nods at her, leaning back against the counter. “Good luck.”

“Yes, good luck, Tali,” Chakwas says distractedly, readying a syringe. Garrus doesn't look away from the ceiling. “Let me know if you need anything.”

* * *

Out of nowhere, the power draw plummets and Tali shakes her head as if to wake up, checking the numbers. She turns her head to Engineer Adams; Daniels and Donnelly are acutely absorbed into something of their own on the other side of the drive core.

“Adams, the Thannix cannon powered down…”

“I know, Tali, I’m looking into it–”

“The Normandy has disengaged from combat on Major Alenko’s orders,” comes EDI’s voice from her terminal. If she has an opinion on that decision, her tone doesn’t reflect it. “We are awaiting further orders and maintaining stealth systems for potential extraction, please be prepared for the jump to FTL.”

Tali’s heart sinks. _Potential extraction_. That’s the best they can hope for?

By the way the chatter quiets down, the other engineers are having similar thoughts. No one gives voice to their worries. On the Neema, the engineering deck would have erupted into arguments about leaving their captain behind; the bigger picture, the nobility of sacrifice for the greater cause of society, emotional pleas to wait a little longer, fight a little longer, _hope_ a little longer. _We are too few of compatible thought to lose a good man_ , her father would say. _In other words, those synthetic bastards aren’t getting one more._

For the first time in years, the bone-shaking hum of the Normandy’s drive core feels lonely. She works through it.

Minutes pass, and Donnelly breaks the silence.

“We’re not actually… we’re not leaving Shepard, are we?”

“She’ll be back,” Daniels says, the same confidence in her words as always. Tali glances over and envies the way she holds herself, shoulders squared, focused on her console. “She always comes back.”

A red light begins flashing across all consoles as EDI’s voice sounds over the comms again.

“Initiating jump to faster than light travel.”

Donnelly’s hands freeze over his console and he looks to Tali, but she doesn’t turn her head, only flicking her eyes over. She’s never seen him look so lost, eyes so wide, not even when she’d broken him out of his pod on the Collector base and he’d collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

“We picked her up.”

It’s a statement, but it isn’t. Tali focuses on her console.

“Kaidan wouldn’t let us leave without her. Commander Shepard needs you to focus.”

It’s a lie, and it’s hard to say it and _know_ that it is and try not to be angry about it. But how _can_ she be? Kaidan of all people knows that the successful conclusion to a mission can be unforgiving, _someone_ has to make the heartbreaking calls. After Virmire, the understanding of it hollows out his bones and builds duracrete bunkers there, heavy and permanent. Everyone left from the SR-1 feels it, Ashley’s ghost on their shoulders, weighing them down, lifting them up, pushing them forward.

As an only child, an orphan, an admiral, a _quarian_ – she _knows_ the burden of duty that comes with keeping her head held high in a crisis. _Let me relieve you of your troubles_ , she remembers her mother saying, arms wrapped around her, the visor of her helmet pressed into thick, viridian paisley as she shook. Eight years gone, wracked with fever, and still she stood tall, comforting her panicked child in her final days. _I will be strong tonight so that you may be strong tomorrow_.

“If we’re leaving, it means the Crucible is preparing to fire. We have no idea what it will do or how far its influence is, so we have to be prepared to maintain FTL for longer than we _ever_ have before. Divert power from nonessential systems,” she hears herself saying, keying through system warnings. “Water purification, power to the mess hall, main battery, the observation rooms,” and Donnelly seems to snap back to attention, furiously trying to keep up with her demands. 

The drive core lights up like the sun over Haestrom. It’s so bright.

The jump seems to last for hours, and after a sudden drop in power draw, a few systems go dark – Tali scrambles to get the inertial dampeners restarted when they unexpectedly go offline, clinging to the console with one hand while restarting the system with the other. Donnelly hits the floor as the artificial gravity comes back online and Daniels calls out to him in a panic – Tali lands solidly and braces herself on the console as the Normandy jerks violently to the side, then stops. Emergency lights blink on the display of every console.

Her heart beats, amazingly. She breathes.

“Faster than light jump successful,” rings out over comms and Tali collapses to the floor, spreading her arms out and just taking a moment to _breathe_.

“Keelah,” she whispers, like it could bring back the dead. “We lived.”

“Systems error, current position not recognized. Please stand by,” says the voice over EDI’s terminal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't actually written anything in ages, but I've been inspired lately, so I want to explore a few things: the gender-irrelevant Shadow Broker dossier for Tali suggests that she's interested in Shepard, no matter whether they're male or female. I'm also interested in exploring how Tali's upbringing and environment affect her development before and after meeting Shepard, plus the implications of the broker dossier in ME2 combined with the default Garrus/Tali relationship if neither is romanced and in addition to Tali's bathroom floor dialogue in the Citadel DLC. There's so much I can't wait to put into words!
> 
> This is my first time posting a story on AO3, so please let me know if there's anything that needs tagged! The major character death tag is in relation to Ashley, I'm not sure if that qualifies, but if I'm going to bring it up repeatedly I don't want to surprise anyone.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. The Honorata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year is 2183, and the Admiral's daughter finally embarks on her Pilgrimage.

Humans have only been on the galactic scene for 26 years; long enough that Tali has never known a universe without them, but short enough that no one in the flotilla has much advice on them for her when she goes on her Pilgrimage. Few and far between, much of the intel contradicts itself.

“Don’t trust humans,” Mai’Torill had told her, with a gift of omni-gel - the refined stuff, no repulsive odor. “They are no different from any other species out there, they’ll knock you down and step on your back to feel an inch taller.”

“Humans are curious,” said Paar’Nonah, pushing a small fortune of antihistamines into her hand. “Many of them haven’t met a quarian, before. You can befriend some of them with stories, it might earn you a night or two of safe harbor.”

“Be wary with anyone you meet,” Shala’Raan says, settling a satchel full of ration bars over her shoulder, as carefully as if Tali were a porcelain doll. Raan pulls her into her arms and Tali shudders, clinging to the back of Raan’s hood, overwhelmed with the promise of tomorrow. “You have a big heart, but many in the galaxy wear poisoned gloves. Let no one get their hands on you who hasn’t first earned your trust.”

“I can handle myself, Auntie Raan,” she complains, but Raan’s fondness is infectious and the protest flattens under the weight of the smile in her tone. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will, dear girl,” Raan whispers, as if it’s a secret. “You make me proud. You make us all proud.”

A flash of cobalt passes in Tali’s peripheral vision and she sees her escort standing at attention against the far wall, gesturing to let her know that her transport is ready and waiting for her. Reluctantly, she leaves the safety of Raan's arms, weaving their fingers together and squeezing tight.

“Safe travels, Tali’Zorah nar Rayya.”

"I'll stay out of trouble, don't worry."

* * *

"We scanned the planet below, as you requested, and we found something. I'm afraid you were right, Tali..." All six fingers rest on the holovid her father had sent along for her, as if to keep it from speaking back up. Typical fare, _bring honor home to your fleet and family_. It holds a different weight now that she's on such a small vessel, with temporary crew. There are more pressing matters than watching this, and so she looks up at Keenah'Breizh, encouraging him to tell her what she already knows. "It's the geth."

"We need to land and see if we can find out why they're here." Their green-suited pilot looks at her sharply, but says nothing, so Tali continues. "It's dangerous, but we have to know why the geth are outside the Perseus Veil. Why now, after all this time? If we send word back to the fleet, they may be gone before we can learn anything. And if they're expanding, then..."

 _We'll be to blame_ is unspoken, and it settles over the skeleton crew like a blanket of ice.

The Honorata prepares an unscheduled landing.

* * *

" _Eden Prime was a major victory,_ " echoes a distant, charismatic voice. " _The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the conduit._ "

" _And one s--_ " and there the audio corrupts. Tali tunes out the occasional glance from her temporary shipmates, focusing on her omni-tool as she tries to extract more from what she has.

Illium was never going to be a welcoming place, but the quarians who had gone there on Pilgrimage seemed to learn a lot; it was more glamorous than Omega, but its reputation wasn't entirely pristine, so a quarian could typically find a decent job by a less-decent source if they looked hard enough. Not that Illium's job market would do much good for Tali if the Honorata wasn’t allowed to dock.

“ _...our platforms are backed up, hold your pattern and we’ll let you know when we see an opening._ ” The traffic controller pauses over comms for a second.

“ _Could be a_ while _, though,_ ” pipes up a different asari voice, on the same frequency. “ _You might want to head on to another port._ ”

“ _Like, on another planet,_ ” finishes the first, contempt dripping from the signal, and like that, the transmission cuts off.

“ _Damn_ it, Tali'Zorah.” Keenah gets back to his feet, beginning another round of pacing around the Honorata like a caged animal. She’d already talked him down from returning to the flotilla and leading their pursuers straight to it, but now they were stuck orbiting a planet that wanted nothing more than to be rid of them. It had been an hour, already, and evidently it would be many more. “You couldn’t go _five_ minutes on your Pilgrimage without picking a fight with _geth?_ And batarians!”

“Actually, the one that almost hit you was a turian,” Tali replies, fully focused on scrubbing the data. She switches her efforts from the audio file to the background data, and this shows a little more promise. Saren, Spectre. Turian, but she could tell that from his voice. There's no visual information at all. Trying to simultaneously refine the data and sort out its implications is giving her a headache, but at least it's something to do while Illium jerks them around.

“Well, I hope I didn’t make him feel _left out_. The last thing I’d want to do is be _insensitive_.” Tali looks up at Keenah and he stops complaining for a moment, just covering his visor with both hands, breathing deeply. “Look, if you'd mentioned that you wanted to make a field trip to shoot geth while we were in the Crescent Nebula, I would have recommended you commission a different ship. Perhaps one with _at least one gun_ , as most of the _other_ ships do. I’ll feel a lot better when you’ve disappeared onto Illium and I can get back to the fleet and install a cannon on the Honorata, that’s all I’m saying.”

“ _Thank_ you, Keenah. Your hospitality is second to none. Have you considered employment in traffic control?”

“Somehow, I think my résumé would get lost,” is his dry reply, and the banter stops for a while as they orbit the cool, blue planet. Keenah crosses his arms behind his back as he turns away toward the observation port, and as she watches him wring his hands, Tali has to remind herself that this is a civilian vessel. Whatever duty as quarians they may have to find information on the geth, the Honorata is of the Civilian Fleet, and Keenah is only an engineer, no matter how he may hold himself.

Yet he didn't protest before they went down. They all knew the dangers of assaulting the geth head-on, that's why she'd only hacked the one and led it far away from the others before mining its data. It was a clean operation, _better_ than textbook. They should have been gone before anything happened -- it wasn't as if anyone could have predicted that the geth had friends with them. Organic friends. _Mercenary_ friends.

He hadn't pulled the Honorata up, and she had put them _all_ in danger with her call. She couldn't let herself get defensive.

Tali’s mind returns to her father’s message. _It’s a heavy burden, the expectations you carry with you, but as my daughter..._

 _I’ll do the right thing_ , her memory supplies, even without having heard it.

* * *

“We were _ambushed_ ,” she grits out, jerking forward even as her hands are cuffed, incredulity carrying in her tone. “Detective, what would you have done in our position? Our pilot was _killed_. There were mercenaries swarming our ship, we barely escaped with our lives! We have important data that absolutely can’t fall into the wrong hands--”

Chellick had almost looked sympathetic, before, but the mention of data makes him tilt his head back in a contemptuous turian gesture, like she'd just dropped a dead pyjak at his feet. Tali takes a brief moment to reflect on why so much of the cinema she grew up on was multicultural, thinking for the first time that perhaps it wasn't for a lack of quarian actors. “Don’t try to barter with me, quarian. The captain isn’t pressing charges on you, but you need to get off this station by tomorrow. Illium, Omega, I don’t care, but get out of my district. Try finding some honest passage, this time.”

He unlocks the cuffs. Keenah rubs his wrist, head tilted toward Tali, and she can just tell he’s glaring daggers at her.

"You know," he says, pulling up a map with his omni-tool, "all things considered, that actually went well."

They’re out of C-Sec Academy before anyone can catch the color of their suits.

* * *

Tali’s anguish is barely contained as the towering turian clerk turns away, that same contemptuous look on his face, his threat of ejection fulfilled. She turns to Keenah in a flutter of purple fabric, gesturing angrily to make up for her low volume. “I-- we’re being hunted, and he called me a _suit-rat_ \--”

Keenah grabs her shoulder, most likely to lead her out of the Presidium. The Citadel Tower is _so close_. The queue for an audience is _7 months._ She can't stop staring, and the blue light of the Avina terminal glows cheerily over them.

“He doesn’t know anything. Focus, calm down, let’s think this through--” Keenah grunts, suddenly, and Tali finally turns her eyes from the far-off tower to her travelling companion, struggling to catch himself before he doubles over.

"Keenah, what's--" A shot catches her side, sizzling and burning where it bites through her suit. She doubles over with a gasp, but catches herself quick, tugging on his arm. "Don't stop now, we have to keep moving!"

Purple blood splatters against the pristine white Presidium floor. The crowd moves around them with barely a ripple, unaffected but for a few glances. _Invisible to all but those who wish us harm,_ she thinks, bitterly. Tali practically has to drag him down a Keeper tunnel, even as she hears armored boots hit the ground and pound toward them, she closes the door behind them both with some frantic work on her omni-tool. It's a split second before their assailant slams against the door, crooning through the durasteel. "Where are you _going?_ You can't hide forever."

"--lungs, there's _fire_ in my lungs," Keenah is saying, and Tali rushes to support him again -- there's an exit wound, it's _that_ bad, purple blood staining sapphire blue fabric and dripping heavy on the floor.

"We can go to the elcor embassy, they've always been sympathetic," she tries, but Keenah gives a shaky laugh, hobbling forward with his weight on her.

"Nobody listens to the elcor," and she _hates_ to concede defeat that easily. His breathing sounds bad. "Not with a straight face."

"What other choice do we have?"

"We could try finding a way out of here before that turian gets through--" Keenah stops talking for a moment as Tali gets the hatch ahead of them open and they stumble into a small room, surrounded on all sides by vents and idle flamethrowers with a rickety catwalk above. After appraising the situation, he intelligently adds, "Preferably not through an incinerator."

"There's a ladder, you big baby," she grouses, but even as Tali moves toward it, Keenah slumps back hard in the other direction. She turns around to face him. "Are you _trying_ to get caught?"

"That VI said there's a clinic in the Upper Wards." His voice is resolved, far and away from the panicked and angry words they've exchanged since obtaining that geth data. His back hits the wall and he slides down to a sitting position, Tali shudders at the vibrant purple stripe that his back paints on the wall. "Go for it -- it's your only chance."

"Keenah--"

"Think I'll just... sit here for a while..."

"We _need_ to keep moving! Keenah--" Her hands grasp at his shoulder as his head goes limp. "Keenah?"

He doesn't move. She tilts his head down and steps back, standing back up, shaking.

She is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, daughter of Admiral Rael'Zorah vas Alarei, pride to Shala'Raan vas Tonbay.

No act of violence toward her people can go unmet.

Tali scrambles to the top of the catwalk and syncs with the systems in the incinerator, releasing control of the door to the Keeper tunnel. The turian's footfalls come barreling through the hatch immediately and he looks around to catch his bearings.

"You're good with that gun," Tali calls down, remotely sealing the hatch. The ladder is already loose, and she kicks it down to the ground; the sound of the impact reverberates through the room, as well as the sound of the cheap metal shattering on contact. She strolls casually from one side of the catwalk to the other, tapping a few commands into her omni-tool as beady eyes follow her. _No clan markings. No people. No honor. He won't be missed._ "But I'm good with this."

The flamethrowers warm up and an orange glow bathes the room. The turian looks up at her with flared mandibles and an unreadable expression.

"Well played, quarian."

" _Burn_ , you bosh'tet."

Tali steps out of the incinerator and the door closes behind her like clockwork. She lingers. Listens to him scream.

A trail of blood follows her as she escapes the tunnels.

* * *

“Where were you shot? If you go to the C-Sec academy, perhaps they can find surveillance footage and--”

“No, that’s alright.” Tali doesn’t think she sounds snappy, but the human seems to back off, put off. She hasn’t spoken to one before, but aside from the colorful fringes and neutral skin tones, they don’t look much different from asari. Not that she's spoken to many asari, either, but the extranet is littered with their faces on ads - it’s easy to read the uncertainty on her face. 

“I have somewhere to be,” she tries to deflect, pulling up her omni-tool. She's already in trouble with C-Sec for stowing away to get here from Illium, and asking for help now that she's _killed_ someone is just asking for trouble. Most quarians manage to get through their Pilgrimage without being shot, and even more of them manage to get home without being tried for murder. “How much do I owe you? I’ll wire it to your account.”

“You were shot,” the doctor says, standing up. She almost sounds offended. “With _polonium_ rounds. You were _poisoned_. I can’t take your credits.”

This clinic isn't nearly big or nice enough for that to be true. _If you trust her, you’ll owe her. If you owe her, she can blackmail you. She can tell C-Sec you ran off without paying, they’ll find out what you did, you’ll be trapped when more assassins come--_

“I don’t need charity,” Tali insists, pulling a battle seal from her pocket and affixing it to the suit breach. She hops off of the cot and bends a little at the waist to test it out; she can barely feel it. She’s never needed to use medi-gel before. A human invention, she remembers. She holds up her omni-tool to complete the transaction, trying to keep from fidgeting with her other hand. The gears in her head turn quickly as she tries to assemble a new plan from the ashes of the old. Selling the information and getting protection from C-Sec wasn’t an option, but...

“If you want to help me, do you know anything about the Shadow Broker's operations in this area? I have some valuable information about the geth, and I need somewhere to go.” She silently curses the desperation that creeps into her voice.

Face unreadable, the doctor takes her money and doesn’t ask her name.

“There’s a man called Fist who works for the Shadow Broker,” she says, pulling up a map of the immediate area on her omni-tool and tracing her finger from the clinic to the club. Tali studies it. “I’ll send his contact information to you.” 

* * *

“Fist set me up! I _knew_ I couldn’t trust him,” Tali exclaims, gesturing angrily with a hand. Raan’s advice rings through her head as she looks over the carnage, green and blue blood cast brown and violet under harsh red light.

“Were you hurt in the fight?”

“I know how to look after myself.” She looks over this one. A human, shadowed closely by a turian in C-Sec blues and a battle-scarred krogan. After everything that’s happened in the last two hours, it smacks of danger, but the human’s voice holds concern in it. And she _had_ just rescued her from her assailants. Doubt can give her a minute to catch her breath, thank you. “Not that I don’t appreciate the help. Who are you?”

“My name’s Shepard, I’m looking for evidence to prove Saren’s a traitor.”

A weight lifts off of her shoulders as she puts the pieces together in her head. The data. _Saren_. She can still get what she needs. Maybe more.

“Then I have a chance to repay you for saving my life. But not here, we need to go somewhere safe.”

* * *

When she had volunteered to follow Commander Shepard on a mission to hunt geth, Tali hadn’t even spared a thought to the vessel she’d been serving on. The only Alliance vessels she was fairly familiar with were of the Kowloon class -- cheap, basic merchant vessels: modular, customizable. 

A damaged pair had been brought into the flotilla as a Pilgrimage gift to her father when she was very small; two flat beasts gently tugged along behind the Rayya while engineers worked day and night to fix the hull breaches. She would stay up and watch through the observation window as sparks flew and patch metal glowed orange, filled with wonder and pride that her people could build new life out of the skeletons of strife.They had been traded to the Special Projects fleet for trio of gunships just after their repair was completed. Tali couldn’t sleep for nights, wondering for the first time in her life if anything could ever be permanent, living on a ship.

The Normandy is far from a merchant vessel. It’s a beautiful, glossy frigate -- _stealth_ _reconnaissance_ , the stenciled lettering on the arm claims with two bold letters. The first of its kind. The CIC houses a long table and a gorgeous galaxy map, and as she’s ushered through to the elevator by a stuffy executive officer, it reminds her of the time her mother had taken her to the Plataea to learn how to repair a cannon for the first time. An ex-turian frigate, solid construction. The CIC here is nicer, even if the crew isn’t as friendly.

And the drive core is _enormous_. Tali can’t even bother being shy about being watched by the chief engineer, both hands on the railing, leaning toward it and the powerful, quiet thrum in her bones. _Keenah, if you could see this... you could crush the Honorata into a block of scrap and it wouldn’t be as big as this drive core._

She turns as Shepard approaches, and for the first time in the last several days, she’s able to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read Homeworlds Issue #2 recently, that pre-Mass Effect comic that centered on what Tali got up to before she met up with Shepard. There are a few disconnects between what supposedly happens in ME1 and what happens in the comic: In Homeworlds #2, there's a volus in Dr. Michel's clinic who suggests the Shadow Broker and offers to help Tali sell her data, and it's implied that she told this volus AND Dr. Michel her whole story leading up to arriving at the clinic. However, in ME1, Dr. Michel says that Tali was not forthcoming with information on her situation, to the point where she only got the "feeling" that she was on the run, and that Tali had been the one to ask her for information about the Shadow Broker.
> 
> I figured plenty of people probably haven't read Homeworlds before, so... a lot of dialogue from the comic is directly lifted, some character choices were made, and then I tried to blend together the two realities to make one that works for me without being dishonest to what we have available to us.


	3. The Hero's Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali gets a chance to warm up to a few more of her human companions.

“So the internal emission sinks are built right into the hull,” Shepard says, fondly slapping the metal casing behind Tali’s shoulder. “Cutting edge technology, experimental Tantalus drive core. Lithium sinks store the runoff heat from our systems so we can run silent for up to 3 hours, or drift for a few days without showing up on scanners.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Chief Engineer Adams has already brought Tali up to speed, but with far fewer theatrics. Shepard is laser-focused on ground missions, it’s fascinating to see the light in her eyes go from hawk-eyed vigilance to simple passion. Tali hardly wants to deny her the fun of explaining the stealth system – _she’s_ going to get to explain it to her father, and the thought of it puts a spring in her step.

“We vent them regularly, and _obviously_ we light up when we hit FTL, but yes. It _could_ be dangerous. The first CO of this ship lost command for trying to push the drive core past its limits, actually. I heard she got into a fight with the turian engineers, practically reenacted First Contact over the CIC. Taking the turians’ olive branch and beating them over the head with it.”

The reference goes over Tali’s head, but the other detail hardly escapes her notice.

“The _first_ commanding officer? Isn’t this a new ship?”

“I was actually only the executive officer until this morning. The Normandy was… relinquished to me, today, by Captain Anderson, like it was relinquished to him before that. Let’s hope I have a little longer with it than the previous COs.”

Mischief pulls at Shepard’s mouth, but her eyes almost seem tired as she explains. Tali wonders how old she is. Losing a friend and taking a life had aged her years in a day, but not _this_ much. Newly wise beyond her years, Tali changes the subject.

“Are you an engineer? You seem to know a lot.”

“ _No_ , hardly.” There’s a trace of a laugh in her _no_ , it’s a pleasant sound. Friendly. Shepard is easier to be around than the rest of the crew. She has a genuine spirit that’s easy to follow. “I just like to know what I’m working with.”

* * *

Shepard dismisses her inner circle after picking up the asari on Therum, and Tali stays polite and quiet in the cramped elevator. Kaidan gets off at the crew deck and escorts their new companion to the med bay, and then they’re back in the cargo bay. She wonders what it must be like up there, all of the humans huddled around the table with their caffeine and their rations and their decent lighting, talking about their families. Once the elevator hits the bottom, Ashley powerwalks to the weapons bench, and Garrus to the Mako. Wrex keeps himself just as distant, but he’s the least obvious about retaking his space, just lumbering over to his spot on the wall.

Tali steps off of the elevator before the doors close behind her, shifting listlessly from one leg to the other. She should just return to her spot by the drive core, but…

Something takes hold of her and she goes to the Mako, instead. Garrus flicks his mandibles before he turns his head, omni-tool still glowing on his wrist. He doesn’t stand up.

“Something the matter?”

She weighs her options. Kaidan is always on the all-human deck, she doesn’t want to second-guess Shepard, Ashley doesn’t talk to any of them down here if she can help it, and Wrex… is Wrex. It’s a terrible day when the most trustworthy person for a quarian to talk to is C-Sec. _Former C-Sec_ _,_ she reminds herself. _For better or worse._

“Can we trust her?”

Garrus looks her over. It only takes an instant, and he says nothing, but the judgement of it settles on her shoulders like a heavy stone. _Who exactly are you to ask that?_

“The Commander needs her,” is all he says, turning back to the Mako, crouched down to return to replacing a heavily burnt tire. The lava had surged up to meet them, and Shepard had climbed back into the Mako to give the thrusters enough lift to get it onto the cargo bay door, even while Tali and Garrus got the archaeologist to safety.

“ _She_ needed _us_ ,” Tali says, and she realizes that she's speaking much more quietly than Garrus. Tali catches Ashley’s glance from across the room and lowers her volume a little more. “ _Needed_ us, past tense. She can leave the next time we go to the Citadel, and she’s made it clear she doesn’t like people, and I find it very hard to believe that _anyone’s_ mother would sic geth on them–”

“Out here,” Garrus interrupts, turning his eyes back on her, almost icy this time, “in the _real_ world? Sometimes people have shitty parents.”

Tali curls her fingers back into her palms and her lungs fill up with flame, but she forces herself to relax. Clear head. _Nobody will take you seriously if you can’t take a hit._

“Maybe,” she says, abruptly turning on a heel. “Thanks.” 

* * *

Watching those colonists move together, ducking into cover, covering each other with no hesitation, without speaking – they were like machines. It was like fighting geth, even more than fighting husks is. Troubled, Tali doesn’t absorb much from the discussion, hardly even paying attention to the curiosity that is asari mind melding.

In the elevator after the Feros debriefing, there’s a hand, firm on her shoulder. Tali tenses as she’s made to follow Kaidan out of the elevator and onto the crew deck. The doors close behind her.

“So, what are you drinking, kid?” Ashley sits her down across from an ensign who, to her credit, doesn’t stare, before she strays to a culinary-grade cooling unit. 

“Uhhh,” she’s not drinking anything, right now, but the best option would be, “Water? Sterilized water.”

“Sticking to the classics, huh? Alright. Hope you don’t mind if I have a beer.” Ashley rummages around for a can of water, shaking it in her hand before she tosses it to Tali. She barely catches it, the cold of the metal sinks into the gloves of her suit and stays there. She quickly sets the can down on the table's surface. “All the canned water’s in the back, so it may be a little frozen on the one side. Sorry.”

“You’re not going to ask what _I’m_ drinking?” Kaidan appears from the vicinity of his locker near the med bay, amicable smile on his face. “That hurts my feelings, Ash.”

“All those fancy biotics of yours and you’re telling me you can’t open the fridge?”

Tali slinks away from their good-natured bickering for a moment to go to the med bay, leaning against the doorway without crossing it as she looks around.

“Can I help you?” Dr. Chakwas' tone is mild enough that Tali doesn’t feel that she has to waste much time with pleasantries. She points at the spot over her oxygen filter.

“Emergency induction port? I know you’re supposed to have them here, for when a patient hurts their neck or hands and can’t drink out of a cup… normally,” she finishes lamely. Chakwas just chuckles and fetches one for her from a cabinet above the sink.

“Just don’t let those two have _all_ the fun, dear.”

* * *

Ashley’s cheeks are flushed a warmer shade when she slams her hand down on the table, and the empty cans rattle. “Unfair! You have that… that whole,” and she gestures with all five fingers splayed out, waving her hand in front of her own face. “That whole thing, going on. My poker face is good, but it’s not _that_.”

“Helmet?” Tali offers innocently, and Ashley brandishes a fist at her with all fingers but one curled firmly into her palm.

“Are you sure you’ve never played Skyllian-Five, Tali?” Kaidan’s just leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he rocks back and forth with one leg. “You picked it up awfully fast, you could have fooled me.”

“I _promise_ _,_ ” Tali says, with a tone as if she’s offended. She’s anything but. “If you were so worried about keeping your credits, you would have stayed sober,” she adds smugly, and Kaidan has the decency to look sheepish as he runs a hand through his hair. Ashley just leans back in her chair with something that’s a mixture of a groan and a laugh.

“You _bastards_ , I’m going to be the only one feeling this tomorrow, aren’t I? Engineer ice water over here, and lieutenant magic metabolism.” An irreverent hand reaches back out for her beer and defiantly, she finishes it off. Against the dim light, all of the dark filaments on her head seem to be out of order: messy, not pressed neat and flat like they are during the rest of the day. Tali wonders if that hurts. 

“…and that’s my cue to go, before this sore loser starts throwing punches. Have a nice night, ladies.” Kaidan ducks away from table, mercifully collecting all of the empty cans in his arms and dumping them into the waste receptacle before he heads back to the crew quarters. 

Ashley makes an O with her lips and exhales for a long time – it’s so quiet in the mess with everyone else gone. When the two of them were goading each other on, it was easy to stay around and talk, but now Tali’s not so sure she should stay.

“This is your first time away from home, isn’t it?” It doesn’t really sound like a question, so Tali doesn’t answer, though she does look back at her human drinking buddy. Ashley’s looking off at something that doesn’t exist, far beyond the Normandy. “It’s a big, scary universe out there.”

“It isn’t so bad once you get used to it,” Tali says, turning in her chair to stretch her legs out – they’d fallen asleep shortly after she kicked Kaidan’s chair to get him to stop ‘subtly’ trying to look at her hand. “The first few days were the roughest, really. I don’t think I would have been happy spending my Pilgrimage just fixing ships and combing salvage yards, anyway.”

“Tell me about that. Your Pilgrimage.” Ashley’s eyes are affixed on her, and Tali has to tilt her head a little so she can look away.

“It’s… a rite of passage. You go off on your own, pick up important life skills, and find something valuable to present as a gift to the captain of whatever ship you want to serve on. It’s supposed to prove that you’re independent and can pull your own weight, living on the flotilla. There aren’t enough renewable resources for idle hands.”

Ashley nods thoughtfully.

“I get that, yeah. Gotta leave home so you can come home. The hero’s journey.”

“The what?”

“Human… literary shit. Personal discovery, learning about the world. Makes up most things worth reading.” Ashley lets her hair down, running her fingers through it and pulling the whole dark wave of it to one side. It looks soft, and there’s way more of it than Tali would have been able to guess. “A story structured around the main character, they go on their journey with spiritual aid, have some kind of epiphany… and then return home a different person. Changed by their experiences, makes them appreciate the little things. Most alien stories are probably like that too, though, huh.”

Tali rocks her chair back and forth a little, thinking about it. “Turian stories aren’t, at least. The vids I’ve seen are usually about personal sacrifice. A lot of the time, the main character dies 20 minutes before the end, and the rest of it is about how that sacrifice went on to change the outcome of a war, or changed a law or something.”

Ashley snorts, bringing a pointer finger up to either side of her cheekbones and wiggling them around near her mouth, doing some kind of deep voice. “I crashed my shuttle on a suicide run into an enemy frigate and died in a horrible explosion, but in 2 years, maybe we’ll pass a law about wearing seatbelts, so it was _worth it_. I’m proud to have died for the cause… of vehicular safety standards.”

Tali brings her hands up to her helmet in mortification as if to stifle the sound when she actually snorts at the impression, laughing, and Ashley grins, chest and shoulders bouncing as she tries to keep from losing it at the unexpected sound. 

“Tali, shut _up_. You’re going to wake up the whole crew deck,” Ashley scolds her, insincerely, in the least subtle whisper-shout possible.

For a moment, home doesn’t seem so far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one thing in ME3 that I found far superior to ME1 and ME2 was how your squadmates will sometimes just... not be in their spots. Garrus, Tali, Liara, Javik, sometimes they just go to the observation deck and hang out and talk. Or even if they are in their assigned locations, they talk to other squaddies over comms and it really fleshes out the relationships. Chapter 2 was mostly just rehashing Homeworlds Issue #2, but I'm going to eventually get us back up to the speed of Chapter 1, promise.


	4. Fallen Matriarchs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The outcome of the mission on Noveria puts certain priorities in order.

“The commanding officer is aboard. XO Pressley stands relieved.”

When the shore party arrives back from Noveria, it‘s not with the triumph that Tali had come to expect from all of their prior accomplishments. Tali makes a show of talking to the acquisitions officer near the door of the engine room, but they’re both watching as Liara and Garrus silently file from the elevator to their lockers and put their equipment away.

Liara just holds her helmet in her hands, turning it back to stare into her reflection on the visor, and Tali can see Garrus hover his hand over her shoulder for a moment, but... he hesitates, letting his arm fall back to his side. From the way his mandibles move, he must say something to her, but his voice doesn’t carry. He turns that strange, piercing stare onto Tali and she has the decency to feel guilty for being caught.

“Debriefing in five,” he announces, stalking back to the elevator. Tali moves quickly to catch it, but she’s the only other one, sharing the space with Garrus as the doors close.

He looks down at her, but she can barely see the movement of it out of her peripheral vision without giving away the fact that she’s staring back.

“We can trust her,” he says primly, looking back at the doors. 

* * *

“It’s rough,” Ashley says, taking apart Tali’s shotgun on the bench. It isn’t damaged, but it’s an excuse to talk to her while she’s working. “Spending so much time away from your family, just to find out something like _that_ was happening while you were gone. You doing okay?”

“I should have trusted her before,” Tali says, and she bites her lip, crossing her arms and leaning a hip hard into the weapons bench. The pressure hurts even through the thick material of her suit. It _should_ hurt. “I didn’t know anything about her aside from her family... I would _never_ have mistrusted a quarian in her situation. Even the children of exiles are welcomed back into the arms of the flotilla as full members of society...”

“Hey, look at me,” says Ashley, taking her shoulder. Tali does so, and the human’s eyes flit around over her face, as if taking her in before settling on _her_. It’s rare to feel _seen_. “You’re gonna make mistakes sometimes. No way around it, it’s how we grow.”

“Unless you’re Shepard.”

Ashley laughs.

“No _way_ , kid. I’ve seen the Commander eat cereal out of a bowl... _without_ milk. Two in the morning, milkless cereal, out of a bowl. Didn’t even drink water with it. Looked me dead in the eyes and _crunched_. In this bitch of a galaxy? We’re _all_ flawed. And this is the best time in your life to figure it all out, right? Rite of passage?”

It’s glum work, thinking about it. “You’re right, but I don’t exactly like it...”

“It’s time to learn shit out in the real world.” Ashley squeezes her shoulder, turning back to the bench. _Real world, again. As if the flotilla isn’t real enough._ Tali shakes it off. “Come on, let’s get started by saying goodbye to this turian trash,” and she swiftly removes the mods and reassembles Tali’s shotgun, setting it to the side.

“Elanus Risk Control hasn’t actually been privately owned by the turians in a very long time,” Tali pipes up, reaching for her gun, but Ashley waves away her protests with one hand as she digs through the new equipment brought back from Noveria.

“ _Here_ we go.” Ashley hefts up what Tali can only identify as a Sokolov by its name across the barrel, brushing her hand lovingly over the side of it. “I’m not saying turians _can’t_ make a decent gun, but a Hurricane is like issuing a restraining order, and while you’re waiting for it to go through, some greasy asshole is bugging you at your job all day. A Rosenkov says _hey, get the fuck off of me if you want to keep your kneecap_ s. You’re growing up, so you should get a big girl gun.”

“I’m not a _child_ , Ash,” Tali says, a little petulantly, and takes it -- a little heavier than her ERC model, the metal is a cooler shade of grey. “This looks like it heats up fast, how many consecutive shots...?”

“At least two more than your old one,” Ashley says proudly, leaning back against the bench. “Maybe three if you let it cool down for a second before you start shooting again. Hits harder, too.”

“How do you balance--?”

“It’s an ancient human secret.” Ashley puts a finger to her mouth, playfully. “You’re way smarter than me, though. I’m sure you’ll just reverse-engineer it when you get a few minutes. And then the quarians will be major players in the arms industry -- look out, synthetics.”

“Quarians _are_ major players in the arms industry,” she says, with some amusement. "We just don’t get credit, most of the time.”

Tali replaces her mods on the new piece and carefully places the shotgun in her equipment locker, wary of the weight of the gaze on her shoulders. Ashley doesn’t look away when she looks back up.

“Thanks for talking to me, Tali,” she says, and it’s unexpected. Ashley sounds less sure of herself than any time they’ve spoken, and it doesn’t sound right. “My sisters have been busy with their jobs, so comm time is limited and... I don’t know.” Ashley crosses her arms again, thinking about it. She nods. “This is nice. Reminds me of what I’m out here for.”

Tali knows exactly what she means.

* * *

“ _I told her you were on the line, but she told me to let her go back to sleep, so--_ ”

“Hello?”

Tali freezes in place. A younger, feminine voice over the private comm asks, “ _Who’s that?_ ”

“No one,” says Garrus, peering at Tali through the Mako’s hatch. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

She feels somewhat at a loss for what to do. If he hadn’t hung up, she would just leave, but now--

“Calling someone, Tali?” Her suit is sweltering, it feels like Therum in here.

“Of course not,” she lies, outright. A quarian on Pilgrimage isn’t forbidden from calling loved ones on the flotilla, but thinking about it... wouldn’t it reflect poorly on her father if the admiral’s genius daughter needed comfort from home before even two months of her Pilgrimage had passed? “I just wanted somewhere quiet to do maintenance on my suit’s runtimes.”

“Yeah,” says Garrus, after a moment. There’s a bit of a sarcastic drawl to it. “Me too.”

He gestures her up, and she climbs in after a moment of hesitation, pulling the hatch closed behind her. It’s hardly cramped, but the whole situation reminds her of childhood sleepovers, pushing around whatever furniture wasn’t bolted down, commandeering all of the thermal blankets and blocking out the light to share secrets in the dark beneath. The Mako isn’t running, but the emergency lights glow a dim, ambient red, helpfully pointing out the hatch.

“If I knew you were in here, I wouldn’t have...” she starts, and he tilts his head slightly to one side as he listens. “I thought you’d left your post,” she finishes lamely.

“I’m turian, you know. Turians don’t leave their posts.”

“You didn’t officially resign from C-Sec until we were _hours_ out of the Widow system,” she counters, and his mandibles flare up slightly in surprise, an expression of amusement.

“Point taken,” he says after a moment, “and I watched you do that ‘maintenance’ you’re talking about during the debriefing so you wouldn’t have to look directly at Liara. So maybe neither of us is telling the whole truth, here.”

They both sit in the silence they’ve made, and it isn’t comfortable, but it isn’t exactly tense, either. When she breaks the silence, it’s to say, “So, rachni?”

“Rachni,” he confirms, leaning back into the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. The armor he has on is new, but it still manages to sport more scars and scuffs than his C-Sec blues. “Word is we’re tracking down some that were shipped out before we got there. You might get to see them up close and personal, if Shepard takes you down.”

“So we’re still _hunting_ rachni, but Shepard let the queen go to make more?”

“It’s more complicated than that, apparently. I would have left it up to the Council,” he says, and his tone is clipped, all C-Sec and calculus. “But it wasn’t an option. You know how Noveria is, with their fundamental lack of accountability and their love of orbital strikes.”

“So Peak 15 is gone already?”

“Most likely.”

“And Liara...” Tali’s mind jumps to the extranet ads she’d received from Anatass Mortuary a few years ago. _Doesn’t your mother deserve the quality and distinction of a traditional asari burial robe?_ She clears her throat. “Don’t asari usually bury their dead?”

“Usually,” Garrus confirms.

The quiet sits for a minute before Garrus collects his field pack, stuffing a ration wrapper into the pocket.

“So, you probably want some privacy to talk to your mother, then--”

“Oh. No, she’s...” Tali gestures weakly with a hand. Those piercing eyes follow her movements and his browplates soften in expression a little, mandibles flicking uselessly. Sympathetically, maybe.

“I see. Mine is... also unavailable.”

“I might call my aunt, though,” she hears herself saying. “You can, um. Stay. If you want, I mean, you obviously don’t have to, why would you want to, right, but it might help me not babble so much, since I know I can sometimes babble, and I don’t want to say too much about the mission and...” she trails off. _Embarrass my father? Cry?_

“Scare her?” Garrus offers, like a hand from the last life pod in a burning ship.

Tali nods. He sets his pack down on the seat beside him, crossing his legs and looking away to give her some semblance of privacy.

“Well, don’t let me keep you waiting.” 

* * *

Shepard hovers in engineering a little longer than she usually does, after one of their talks. The friendly, curious discussion about quarian politics had seemed a little out of place after everything that happened in debriefing -- just a bit strange, not that Shepard wasn’t strange on her own time. When she briskly turns away from Adams in a flare of red hair, she strolls past again, and Tali finds herself reaching out.

“Shepard?” She stops where she stands. “Is there something else you wanted?” 

The human approaches and leans against the wall, leaving Tali between her and the rest of the engineers.

“Me? I wasn’t looking for anything. But you looked like you still had something you wanted to talk about, so I thought I’d stick around.” Tali finds her face heating up, thankful for the tinted visor. Had she been that obvious about staring? She must have been.

“The rachni,” Tali says, as if that explains everything.

“The rachni,” Shepard echoes, turning her gaze to the drive core. “What about them? You probably know more than I do.”

“Wasn’t it... dangerous? To let her go?” Second-guessing Commander Shepard isn’t on the top of her list of things to do today, but it’s not like it’s insubordination, not exactly. She’s more like a consultant, and she _certainly_ isn’t Alliance. “You don’t know what she’ll do with the second chance you gave her.”

Shepard is quiet for a minute; she takes a deep breath and exhales just as slowly. “Do you think I should have killed her?”

“Yes? Well. Probably.” Tali falters. “I wasn’t there, I don’t know what it was like.”

“Would you have done it?” Shepard’s not looking at the drive core anymore. “Off the record, would you have been able to drench someone in acid and watch them die in front of you?”

“I don’t--” The vivid and direct nature of the question throws her; Tali latches onto something else to catch her balance, shifting her weight on her legs. “You said some _one_.”

“Someone,” Shepard repeats, without the emphasis. “She’s young, scared. But wise, too.”

She pauses, deep in thought. Tali hardly dares to breathe.

“You know... she didn’t even ask me to free her,” Shepard says, carefully. “Just asked if I was going to kill her. Asked me to kill them, all of her children. They were beyond hope, beyond saving because they were taken away from her so young.”

A troubled look clouds Shepard’s face and she crosses her arms. It’s supposed to look casual, but Tali can see the stress in the fabric of her fatigues where her fingers dig into her side. “They grew up in silence, never knowing the love of a caretaker, just... a wave of aimless violence. Survival. No hopes, no dreams, no future. That’s the worst part, going from shooting bugs to slaughtering... terrified, unarmed children. They were so young...”

She sounds like she did when they had discussed the origins of the geth, earlier this month. The war. She’d been so confused and frustrated when Shepard supported the geth, even knowing what they were doing now, but this is...

“Shepard?”

The miasma seems to clear away from around her head and she finally looks back to Tali, a tired smile settling on her face. 

“Sorry, guess it’s pretty short-sighted to look at galactic affairs with a human perspective. How many times do you think Councillor Sparatus will have to chew me out before he drills it into my thick skull?”

 _Human perspective?_ Ashley and Kaidan had seemed equally unsettled by her choice to let the rachni queen roam free. Surely there’s something more to it than that.

“Enough times that he gives up on trying, I hope,” Tali says, resting a hand on her hip and injecting a playful tone into her words. _Diffuse the mood like it’s an explosive charge_. “Doesn’t it defeat the purpose of being a human Spectre if you’re just going to act like a turian?”

Shepard considers this for a moment, then tilts her head slightly to one side. She looks calmer.

“I guess it does.”

* * *

“She bought me so many books,” is the first thing that Tali hears when she steps off of the elevator. “A few lecture vids and audio files for my first omni-tool, as well, but... primarily books, with paper, and pages. Hard covers with beautiful illustrations.”

Kaidan sees Tali before Liara does, and he catches the asari’s eye so she knows to look.

“I’m sorry,” Tali says, backing into the elevator, “I didn’t mean to intrude--”

“It's alright,” says Liara, and how the asari manages to sound so melancholic and factual all at once, she’ll never know. “I was just wrapping up.”

“I’m sure there’s time for one more,” Kaidan suggests, looking at Tali and turning his chair so his legs are out of the way of the seat beside him. “Please, go on.”

Tali feels Liara’s eyes on her as she moves to sit down, but the look isn’t accusatory or unwelcoming. It feels curious, almost.

“...Benezia thought it would give me something less destructive to do with my hands,” Liara continues, lost in thought. She almost sounds amused. “In reality, she had only given me homework, the scientific method, and something to listen to while I surveyed sites around the neighborhood. I even uncovered what had _really_ happened to my neighbor’s pet varren, which had supposedly run away. It was not the first time that the local community was unimpressed by the results of my digs, and it would not be the last.”

Kaidan chuckles warmly, and Tali just finds herself watching Liara’s face as she talks. Her tone had hardly changed, but the subtle smile on her face when the joke landed was a nice change of pace. Tali finds herself smiling, too.

“One night, she had me attend a function with her... Goddess, I was so small, I can hardly even recall why we were there. She wore yellow, and insisted that we have matching outfits, as I was now a scientist of high regard, and must do _everything_ in my power to be taken seriously by the members of high society.”

“Did you dig up the backyard?” Kaidan asks, as if he’s heard this story before. Liara smiles, and it would look innocent on anyone else. On her, it looks mischievous.

“What do you think?”

Tali’s the one that laughs this time, resting an elbow on the table and propping her head up. Since Liara arrived, she had always seemed out of place -- out of _time_ , almost, transported from a dimension where each planet has a population of one and mingling is only a theory. Even so, she's a natural storyteller.

“Needless to say,” Liara concludes, “my very first high-society party dress was ruined, and I was not invited back.”

“The only time my mom ever interfered in my wardrobe was to tell me to wear a sweater,” Kaidan offers, a comfortable smile on his face as he imitates what must be his mother's scolding tone. “' _Kaidan Alenko, if the cold doesn’t kill you, I will!_ ' Wasn’t really cold that often unless it got _real_ bad, though. Biotics will do that.”

Tali thinks about the warnings her mother gave her about her first exosuit and sighs. She doesn’t think her mic pics it up, but Liara turns those blue eyes on her, like searchlights over a derelict cruiser.

“Do you have any fond anecdotes you would like to share, Tali?”

Does she? She would decline, but Liara only _just_ lost her mother. It wouldn’t be oversharing to sympathize, would it?

“When I was young,” Tali says, taking care with her tone and words, “my mother told me, ‘Tali’Zorah nar Rayya, you are a light in the dark. If you shine your light on others, one day, you will illuminate even the darkest corners of this galaxy.’ It’s a _very_ quarian sentiment,” she explains, looking at her hands as she gestures over the table. “Your strength must come from inside you, but it’s meant for greater things than just helping yourself. If you are strong, the community is stronger. If sorrow hurts you, it hurts the community, too. So they offer you food, companionship, guidance... a quarian in mourning is never alone.”

“I see,” Liara says after a moment, and her hands are clasped on the table. Tali reaches out to cover them with her palm.

“You aren’t alone either, Liara,” Tali says, gently.

“I see,” Liara repeats, and she closes her eyes tightly, turning one palm over.

Tali takes her hand.


	5. Swan Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard's ground team gets a little closer at Joker's expense. Tali experiences something unnerving.

When Shepard tracks down the remaining rachni, she brings Liara and Wrex with her. “I need heavy biotics on this one,” Shepard had said of her squad choice. “Plus, I think Wrex could use the opportunity to stretch his legs.”

Tali was secretly just glad that she didn’t have to kill any more rachni after getting ambushed at that listening post earlier. _Too many legs,_ she decided. _Too much acid._

She spends much of those few missions just playing cards with Kaidan and Ashley, but she only starts losing when she invites Garrus along. 

“This was a worse idea than buying element zero on Omega,” she comments after losing a healthy sum of 400 credits, and Kaidan hums in agreement. They lock eyes and both fold at once.

“Still think you can win, Williams?” Garrus has one mandible held out to the side like a smirk, and if Tali were an elcor, she’s sure she would be able to _smell_ the confidence thrumming in his subvocals. He’s usually pretty expressive for a turian, she’s noticed, so it’s surprising to watch how he plays -- until he thinks he has someone at a disadvantage, he keeps his eyes low, mandibles pressed hard to his mouth, shoulders down. He gives away about as much as a duracrete brick. And then he goads everyone else into playing badly.

“Williams women don’t back down from a challenge,” Ashley declares. She chews on her lip for a minute, but finally leans back in her chair, throwing her cards down. “Screw it. Full house.”

Garrus’ mandibles flutter out with amusement and he chuckles, relinquishing his losing hand. “Straight. You win.”

“Ha! Fork it over, Garrus.”

He tosses her a mod for her assault rifle and she snatches it out of the air, looks over it with glittering eyes, and stuffs it into her pocket. Kaidan looks extremely offended at the exchange.

“I had _four_ of a kind, I would have--”

“Shouldn’t have quit, LT! Guess you’re just human like the rest of us.”

“The _rest_ of us?” The smugness in Tali’s voice is audible. Ashley gives her a look as she leans back in her chair, then a grin, then raises her glass of water. Always sober until her CO says they’re done for the night, and rowdy enough without it.

“ _Hell_ yeah. Human or alien, we’re all just animals.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Tali cheers, snatching Garrus’ cup of water before he can react. She holds it up to Ashley, then to her helmet, not tipping it far enough back to get any on her. Biting her lip, trying not to smile, Tali lets a few seconds pass by for comedic effect before-- 

“Oh.”

The resounding howl of laughter that breaks out around the table warms her heart for days.

* * *

“Why don’t your people try something like that?” Garrus asks, and Tali wonders why he always decides to wait until they’re trapped in an enclosed space to ask something inappropriate. “In-utero gene therapy, or vaccines.”

He’s referring, of course, to that bickering human couple Shepard had decided to interfere with.

“Oh, good idea, Garrus,” she replies, going for overeager enthusiasm this time rather than blatant sarcasm. “My people have _never_ thought of that. Which world’s ecosystem, fauna, microorganisms, and dangerous weather would our delicate immune systems -- forged in a sterile environment for almost 300 years, by the way -- be trying to acclimate to, exactly?”

“Well--”

“I'm open to suggestion! Remember,” she continues, tapping each of her fingers. “It has to support dextro-amino acid based life, have an atmosphere primarily consisting of oxygen-- oh, and it must not already belong to the turians.”

“Well--”

“ _Oh_ ,” Tali says, holding up one additional finger on the other hand. “And it also can’t be Ekuna.”

“The quarian occupation of Ekuna was technically illegal--”

“Shepard, when was the last thing you did something _technically_ illegal? Theoretically for the greater good?”

“Well,” Shepard pipes up cheerily, and the way Garrus startles at her voice is refreshing. Shepard _never_ interjects in these discussions; Tali has always thought it was more out of curiosity or courtesy than anything else. “Before I was a Spectre, Garrus and I _did_ shoot up Chora’s Den. Twice, actually; once going in, once getting out. Technically illegal at the time!”

Tali mock-gasps, moving her hands up as if to cover her mouth and putting on her innocent bystander voice. “An officer of Citadel Security helped an Alliance soldier launch an armed assault on a gentlemen’s club?”

“ _Well_ ,” Garrus replies, suddenly finding the opposite side of the elevator extremely interesting. “Who can say. Maybe they’ll pay you to take Invictus off of their hands.” There’s a little sadistic thrill in making him feel stupid, but only at times like these.

* * *

“About time you pyjaks invited me up here to socialize,” Wrex grumbles, leaning against the support beam. Kaidan had offered him a chair, but Wrex had correctly deduced that he would be ‘too much krogan for that thing to handle’.

“You just looked so cozy glaring at me from across the cargo bay,” Garrus drawls, swirling the brandy around in his glass. The lights on the crew deck are dimmed for the night cycle. “We didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Don’t think we’re buddies now just because Shepard made you help me out with a personal favor,” Wrex grunts, pointing at the turian with a lot more threat than is actually in his voice. “Takes a lot more than that to win _my_ heart. Some decent booze, for starters.”

Liara offers him an unopened bottle of something that looks like asari spirits and Tali has to stifle a laugh at the juxtaposition between the bottle and his massive fist. 

“Thanks, kid, but I’d rather drink my own piss,” Wrex declines politely, and Ashley snickers into her beer. Liara has the decency to look absolutely scandalized by the vulgarity.

“Ignore him, everybody, he’s harmless,” says Shepard, swooping into the group like a phantom out of dark space to liberate the spirits from Liara. “Joker sends his best.”

“I do _not_ send my best,” Joker clarifies over comms. “I’m just here to make sure _someone_ on this ship passes the line test if we get pulled over. You know, since I’m apparently the only responsible adult on this ship.”

“And we’re all very grateful,” Kaiden says helpfully, “we--”

“To Joker!” Ashley crows, jumping up to raise her glass. “Not the designated driver we deserve, but the one who got stuck with us!”

A few glasses raise and Shepard takes the opportunity to lean in over Kaidan, smiling, checking out his cards. She looks different off-duty, lately. More relaxed.

Shepard makes an expression that’s supposed to look pained, but it’s so different from her _actual_ pained expression that it’s just comical. “Ouch, soldier. Dealt a bad hand?”

“Yeah, well. Nothing new there, Commander.”

“If we’re all done flirting,” Wrex interrupts, “I think the turian here was in the middle of telling us all a heartwarming story about the time some idiots poisoned themselves around this time last year.”

“Right, right. Where were we?" Garrus asks, waving his hand as if to catch his train of thought. His expression brightens as he recalls, then darkens as he gets back into the mood. "So, _Saracino_. Terra Firma party.” 

Garrus always lowers his voice when he tells an old C-Sec story, leans in like he’s telling a secret. Turning his head occasionally, looking around like someone’s going to catch him. It has the side effect of quieting down even the rowdiest card games, and Tali isn't the only one who's captivated.

“So _he_ has an alibi, right? He and his family are spending a nice, quiet evening in their lovely two-bedroom apartment. It’s all on camera, the whole nine yards. He shakes some hands, kisses some babies, even buys a bottle of wine for the receptionist at his building. But his _niece,_ Margaret? Sweet girl, no criminal record. _She_ works for this major catering business in Taysiri Ward, where this asari literature group has an open-door poetry reading planned. Hanar, turians, I hear there were even some vorcha there, if you’d believe it.”

Garrus leans back, an impish glint in his eye as he surveys the uncharacteristically silent band of people around him.

“...wouldn’t you know it, it’s just a _few_ doors down from the Armistice Day banquet, and guess which catering company gets contracted for both events...?”

* * *

A geth trooper’s head shatters light-first just ahead of her and she ducks back into cover, grateful her shields held out long enough for the save.

“Thanks, Garrus!” Tali calls out over comms.

“No problem,” Garrus says.

“Don’t take credit for my headshots, Vakarian,” replies Shepard. Tali hears a mechanical explosion behind her as another geth goes down.

“Got that one!” Garrus crows.

Once her shields recharge, Tali peeks out of cover to survey the area. Scattered shipment crates, corrugated metal prefabs, geth. Across the way she spots Garrus -- his position is mostly hidden, but as he tries to train his scope on a geth hopper, a prime approaches from behind. There’s no way he can hear it -- the wind, the thick layer of dust silencing its footsteps, and with that helmet on?

With no time to think about it, Tali locks onto the prime’s signal. With a crackle of static, one huge mechanical arm tilts up and shoots a rocket over the turian’s head, incinerating the hopper. 

Garrus vaults over the rusted wall he had hidden behind, sprinting for cover in the empty prefab. Tali breathes a sigh of relief when she can’t see him anymore, ducking back into cover, herself.

“Thanks, Shepard!” he calls out over comms.

“That was _me!_ ” chides Tali.

“Soldiers, you’re _both_ pretty,” Shepard calls back, a hint of amusement and exasperation in her voice. “Can we just play nice long enough to kill this thing?”

* * *

Hours after leaving Solcrum, Tali’s mind is still on the song that had played over the terminal when she had overloaded the last geth platform. A Khelish lamentation -- it had taken her so by surprise, the voice of a long-dead quarian woman, emotion trembling in her voice as she mourned the loss of innocence.

It transmitted to a location far, far away.

_Why? Why transmit that?_

_Why even have it?_

Tali almost doesn’t see Shepard until she’s right in front of her. Her hair is damp from the showers, slightly darker, heavier.

“Shepard, I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Shepard stands up a little straighter. “Is something wrong?”

“You know the data you took from those geth control nodes? The information you uploaded to Alliance Control? I want a copy of it.”

* * *

01001000010001010100110001010000  
01001000010001010100110001010000  
01001000010001010100110001010000  
01001000010001010100110001010000

The numbers scroll across Tali’s omni-tool, auto-translating from an early human computing language into a human written language, and then into contemporary Khelish. A cry for help. She catches Garrus looking sharply from his wrist to Shepard with crime scene appraisal eyes.

The signal stops abruptly and Shepard takes a deep breath, shutting her omni-tool down. She has that far away look on her face again. The rachni look. The geth look.

She turns on a heel and gestures for them to follow her back through the blackened halls of the training base, a silent cemetery of felled drones.

“Come on. I’ve had enough of this place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had somewhat of a hard time getting this one to fit together right? Spent most of my writing time today just trying to fix formatting and grammatical issues in the earlier chapters. The one issue with being a little excited, haha.


	6. Virmire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard's team makes it to Virmire. Promises are made, spoken and unspoken. Not all are kept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Combined this with the old chapter 5! I realized I'd chopped it up for really no reason at all. Oops! We're all prone to a little silliness now and then.

Tali is sprawled out on the floor when Shepard comes down to the cargo bay, carefully sifting through the contents of yet another recovered probe. Adams is neatly setting aside the disassembled pieces on a large tarp -- Liara had eagerly suggested keeping whatever small vessels they discovered with Matriarch Dilinaga’s writings and donating them, paired with their respective texts, to the history department at Serrice University. Not extremely difficult, but it's time-consuming work.

The probe is barely recognizable as such -- thousands of years old, Tali is fairly certain, but still holding up. It requires a gentle touch.

“Tali,” and Shepard’s voice breaks her out of her reverie. She looks up at the human; it’s only from down here that Shepard is actually taller than her. “I just got a lead from the Council, I'm expecting heavy geth presence, so I’m going to need you on the ground as my geth expert. Check with Ashley and make sure you have everything you need before we get there. You have a few hours to prepare.”

Tali leans on one hand and holds up the other, curling two into her palm so only her thumb is sticking up -- it’s a human gesture Joker showed her, though she had the sense to double check its meaning with Kaidan before field-testing it now. Tali personally thinks it looks like she’s making a threat with a remote detonator, but Shepard’s military stance relaxes a little at the gesture.

“You can count on me, Shepard.”

* * *

“Nice work talking down the krogan,” a salarian comments to Shepard as she walks by. Her expression is hard and focused, and the comment only manages to make her jaw stiffer. Tali hops down from the raised platform of the tent to give her some room, locating Wrex in her peripheral vision. She thinks he looks tense, but she hasn’t really had much experience with krogan body language beyond ‘charging’ and ‘not charging’.

Tali can read Ashley, and she’s definitelytense.

Nearby, Garrus has his arms crossed behind his back. His eyes are closed, chin tilted skyward, and she can see the ridges on his nose gather together as he takes a deep breath of the ocean air. His shoulders rise with his chest, mandibles flicking outward.

Shepard and Kirrahe are talking shop behind her and Tali lets their discussion fade as she walks a few yards away, closer to the water. She looks up into the sky, the wispy clouds curling across the bright blue of the atmosphere. The broad leaves of native trees sway as the breeze picks up, and the sound picks up on her external mic; the rustle of far-off heavy foliage and the steady roll of the tide whisper into her ear.

Tali closes her eyes, purses her lips. She exhales deeply through her mouth and toward her visor; the cool air hits the barrier and skirts her cheeks. The wind in her helmet halts abruptly, but the leaves continue to rustle outside, unsympathetic.

Tali digs her toes into the sand. She can’t tell it from mud or thick carpeting. Something aches in her chest and she curls her fingers around the belt slung over her shoulder. She inhales sharply, and the exhale is shaky, but she has it under control. This is just the state of being quarian.

The Khelish lament from Solcrum echoes in her mind, floating on the wind in her ears -- all sound with no sensation.

_If Saren isn’t stopped, it won't just be me. Nobody will be left to enjoy the breeze._

Tali feels eyes on her and turns her head to catch Wrex watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. He doesn't react to being caught.

Feeling vulnerable, suddenly, Tali steps out of the sand and returns to the tents.

* * *

Shepard takes every detour, calling back for cover fire as she sprints to sabotage the geth comm tower. She blows up a fuel tank and throws a grenade at a satellite dish. Wrex’s face lights up like a teenage vandal in a fine antiques dealership when Shepard asks Tali to trip the alarms on their side of the base. 

Tali struggles to keep her shields up as they take fire from a prime and, curiously, a handful of salarians. Their uniforms match those of Kirrahe’s team.

“That turian bastard must be _damned_ charismatic,” Wrex remarks sourly, nudging a salarian corpse with the toe of his boot. If Tali hadn't known him better, she might have called it a kick. “He only had these salarians a few days, and they had no problem shooting the first organics that came through that door.”

“Some of the geth cleared out over here, Commander,” Kaidan calls out over comms. “I don’t know what you did, but expect more coming your way!”

* * *

In the lab, Shepard raises an eye to her scope and fires a shot off into the asari’s head before Tali even sees her. A krogan in plainclothes hits a button that releases several husks from containment, vaulting over an examination table as he charges toward Shepard. Tali shoves a husk away from her and blows its lower half off with her Solokov before it can take her shields down, and Wrex connects with the krogan from the side, slamming in with a heavily-armored shoulder. The krogan stumbles but manages to catch his balance, butting heads with Wrex.

“No! Stay back!” He’s growling, glaring at Shepard, reaching for the gun on his back -- charging must have been his first instinct. “This is important work! This is the glorious salvation of my species!”

Tali reflexively overloads his shields, and in the same instant Shepard takes the clear shot from the side of his head. There is no second shot. Wrex shoves forward with his plated head and the scientist falls back heavily on his hump, blank eyes on the ceiling. Tali switches to her pistol and quickly finishes off the remaining husks before they get close enough to do anything.

Wrex looks at Shepard with a dissatisfied curl to his lip, but doesn’t say anything as she kneels down to check the scientist’s pockets.

“Doctor Droyas,” Shepard supplies after rifling through his things. She tosses the identification card to Tali, gesturing to what appears to be the main console in the room. “Get what you can, fill me in on the way.”

Tali rushes to the task, downloading what’s left of the data -- it’s only partial, though. The command to release the husks seems to have coincided with an automated system wipe. She runs through it, brow furrowed as Shepard whistles sharply and gestures for them to follow her through the next door.

There is cloning research, but very few krogan names. Much of the data on the husks is corrupted, it seems it was more valuable to that particular part of the lab.

“Shepard, this doesn’t seem right. Look at this.” Tali waves her omni-tool over Shepard’s, and as the information transfers, Shepard's holographic interface lights up. A dozen identical strands of DNA revolve around a larger one in the center. Shepard skims through the data as they move.

“Droyas was studying husks, but he was corresponding directly with the lead scientist at the breeding facility. Looks like they were just cloning a few of the warlords Saren hired,” Shepard says, offering her wrist to Wrex. Dark red eyes study the data. “There doesn’t seem to be any actual genophage work, here. The participants are named in the successful experiments, but their clones only have ID numbers. I doubt Saren went to the trouble of making them immune to the genophage if he was just planning to clone himself mindless army.”

“...no females on this list,” Wrex agrees, unhappily. “Doubt that’s an oversight.”

“My guess is that it’s a short-term power trip for the krogan recruits,” Shepard concludes, closing the file. “You know, ‘Follow me, Saren Arterius, and I’ll give you a legacy.’ Full-grown krogan that crawl directly from the vats into Saren’s horde. These warlords probably expected to just storm Sur’Kesh with their new private armies and demand a real cure from the salarians.”

“So much for glorious salvation,” Tali sighs.

“Damn it, Shepard!" When they come to the bridge, Wrex slams his fist on the controls, glaring at her. The bridge doesn't move. "Why did you bring me here, then? To gloat?"

Tali inches away from him.

“Whatever we found here today, I needed you to see it firsthand,” Shepard says, examining the unresponsive bridge console. “I'd have to be an idiot to expect you to follow me blind when something this important is at stake, and I _need_ you to know that I’m on your side. Nobody who helped Saren with these experiments is getting off of this planet alive.”

* * *

Wrex looks at Shepard darkly as she questions the asari scientist. Her gun stays on her back, arms behind her, back straight. Rana Thanoptis is a full foot taller than Shepard, but she has no semblance of stature under that green-eyed stare. Tali looks warily at Wrex. Shepard’s promise had been less than a minute ago, but she recalls last week -- a facility full of Cerberus scientists doing horrible experiments with thorian creepers. Shepard hadn’t taken them out until they resisted arrest, and _this_ one had surrendered, peacefully. Unlocked the elevator, gave them access to Saren’s files--

“I’m sorry. It ends better for you this way.”

A shot fires and the asari falls to the ground, eyes wider than the hole in her head. Wrex looks pleased. Tali is less certain what she feels.

Shepard holsters her pistol and gives the body a wide berth.

* * *

**“Your words are as empty as your future. This exchange is over.”**

The ominous holographic display of Sovereign shuts off at the same moment that glass shatters out of the windows, and Tali can only be grateful that her heart was already racing from trying to process the fact that Saren’s flagship is _alive_. _No beginning and no end_ \-- surely that was a lie, a machine _has_ to be created by something. 

_A chunk of metal can’t simply develop heuristics on its own._

Shepard is shouting something to Joker over comms as they evacuate the building, and Wrex throws a barrier around Tali just in time to stop a bullet -- it hits the biotic wall with a horrible sound.

“Wake up, kid!”

* * *

Kaidan’s team takes down the other anti-aircraft gun and the Normandy can finally get close enough to deliver the payload. There’s a deep sense of dread in Tali’s chest as Ashley comes off the ship with the explosive charge -- she’d known it was cobbled together by the salarian team, but this thing looks ancient. Clunky. Unreliable. 

When Ashley sets it down into the water, the width of its upper portion keeps it afloat for a split second before the weight of it sinks it down into the water, landing with a muted _thud_. She and the two soldiers accompanying her all step back. All ten of Ashley’s fingers tense over empty hands, as if she’d just been burned. 

Tali rubs her upper arms. The light from Hoc doesn’t reach down here at this point in Virmire’s rotation, the walls of the compound are too high. It’s cold.

“Bomb is in position,” Ashley begins, “we’re all set--”

“Commander, can you read me?” Kaidan cuts in over the line.

“The nuke is almost ready, get back to the rendezvous point, Alenko!”

“Negative, Commander. The geth have us pinned down on the AA tower--”

Shepard’s pacing now, arguing with Kaidan. Tali takes the opportunity to grab Ashley’s wrist. Though she turns to face Tali, her eyes linger on Shepard for a few seconds.

“Ash, I’m good at operating clunky old tech like this, maybe I should--?”

“Negative, Tali. The salarian requisition officer showed me how to set it up while we waited for you to take the guns offline.” Ashley glances back over to Shepard again, a strange look on her face. 

Kaidan’s still arguing, but Shepard’s already ordered Joker to the AA tower for extraction. Ashley looks back at Tali and takes both of her hands, squeezing tightly. “Besides, Shepard picked you for this mission. Lots of geth between here and the salarians. Keep Shepard safe.”

Kaidan’s transmission cuts off mid-sentence and Ashley turns back to Shepard, back straight, shoulders set, ready for orders. Any father would be proud.

“It’s okay, Commander. I need a couple of minutes to finish arming the bomb. Go get them and meet me back here.”

* * *

They’ve barely cleared the elevator when the geth plant a dropship right over the courtyard. Time seems to stop as Tali watches it move, a heavy omen of death sailing by only a few meters ahead of her.

“--geth pouring out all over the bomb site!” she hears Ashley call over comms, and Shepard turns back toward the elevator, hand on her earpiece.

“Hold on, Ash. I’m coming back to get you.”

“Negative, there’s just too many of them! I don’t think we can hold them off!”

Shepard’s hand hits the call button with the side of her fist, glancing back to the door to the courtyard on the level below, sealed shut.

“I’m activating the bomb.”

The doors open, but Shepard doesn’t get on. Tali can’t breathe, watching geth rain out of the sky.

“Williams, _what_ are you doing?”

“Just making sure this bomb goes off. No matter what.” There’s hardly a moment of silence, and Tali can practically hear Ashley’s heart racing when she breathes out. “It’s done, Commander. Go get Alenko and get the hell out of here.”

Shepard exhales slowly and turns away from the elevator.

* * *

Tali isn’t sure what she expected Saren to look like, but when she does finally lay eyes on him, she feels ill. Combined fire on his barrier does nothing, and Shepard issues an order to stay in cover, even as she holds her pistol at the ready.

She’s trying to talk him down, but Tali can’t pull her eyes away from _him_. Old, faded colony markings on his mandibles seem to blend into some sort of synthetic structures jutting out of his upper jaw, binding the two parts of his face together. When he speaks, only his lower jaw moves, soldered to his face, and no matter how long he talks, he never blinks those backlit eyes. Grotesque holes in his armor grant a window to an internal architecture of dimly illuminated cables, and his left arm looks like it could have been directly grafted off of a geth trooper, all mechanical sinew.

It’s _sickening_.

“...the transformation from ally to servant can be subtle,” he says, and Tali notices that even the long, sweeping tines on each side of his face seem to have unsettling mechanical structures emerging from where they connect to his head. “I will not let it happen to me.”

“Sovereign’s _manipulating_ and you don’t even know it! You’re already under its power!”

“No, Sovereign _needs_ me--”

Tali catches sight of the Normandy, hovering on the far side of the AA tower. Is Kaidan still alive? Did the salarians make it?

“I’m not _doing_ this for myself! Don’t you see? Sovereign _will_ succeed...”

She busies her hands disassembling the chassis of the dead -- _nonfunctional_ \-- geth rocket trooper behind the crate with her. Its manufacture seems newer, and she carefully disconnects its power source and stuffs it into a pocket, keeping her eyes on Saren. Shepard is still trying to reason with him, as if she can’t _see_ what he’s become. 

_Breathe, Tali. Shepard’s buying time for Kirrahe’s group on the tower._

“I’m forging an alliance between us and the Reapers,” Saren exclaims, “between organics and machines -- and in doing so, I will save more lives than have ever existed!” Saren is so _sure_ of himself. When he pauses and narrows his unnaturally angled browplates, it’s not to consider his next move. It’s for effect. 

The Normandy lifts off behind Saren, back out of sight.

Shepard shoots a look to Tali, signalling with a hand to follow her lead.

“But you would _undo_ my work. You would doom our entire civilization to complete annihilation. And for that, you must die.”

* * *

Tali’s vision blurs as Wrex shakes her. Shepard makes a horrible sound behind her, and an alarm blares throughout the breeding complex.

“Get up, Tali. Ride’s here.”

The Normandy eases down over top of the courtyard and Kaidan practically skids down the cargo bay door on his boots as it opens. His eyes dart to Wrex, and the krogan tilts his head toward Shepard. As Kaidan sprints past, Wrex hoists Tali up under her shoulder and she staggers to her feet, looking around blearily.

“You quarians really can’t handle your biotics, can you? Saren took you _right_ out of the fight.”

“I-- Shepard...?”

“She’s fine. Use your legs, I’m not some Tomkah for hire you can just catch a ride on.”

Despite his grumbling, Wrex supports Tali back onto the ship, and Kaidan isn’t far behind, carrying Shepard in his arms. Her neck is heavily discolored and she’s still coughing, waving her hand around in objection. When the cargo bay door closes behind them, he reluctantly lets her down and she falls to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

Shepard brings her fingers to her ear the instant she stops coughing, her other fist pressed to her mouth in between sentences. Tali can hear the Normandy’s thrusters repositioning themselves as the frigate gains altitude.

“Williams? How much time left on the nuke?”

The dual voices beside her and on her comms echo in Tali’s helmet.

“Ash? Our ETA is one minute, do you copy?”

Tali’s head is swimming. She tries her omni-tool, amplifying the signal strength of their channel, but all it does is let dull static into her helmet.

“Private Hua? Private Blair? What’s your status?”

“Commander,” Major Kirrahe says, carefully, “if Chief Williams armed the bomb exactly when she said she did, then we have fewer than two minutes to escape. Respectfully, her sacrifice will be for nothing if the Normandy doesn’t clear the blast radius.”

Kirrahe's eyes flick from the countdown on his omni-tool to the human on the floor. Shepard curls her fingers into a fist against the floor.

“Ash?”

Kaidan crouches down and covers her fist with his hand, looking at her. His brows are drawn tightly together, lips pressed thin. Shepard looks at the floor, instead.

“Joker, you heard the Major.”

“Aye aye, Commander.”


	7. Phantom Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali gets cleared for duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wrestled with me a little, but I think I'm happy with it.

The trip back to the Citadel is a nearly silent affair. There is no toast to their victory, no friendly game of cards. Shepard dons her armor for her patrol around the ship after a brief meeting with Dr. Chakwas. Even as she checks on Tali, Tali’s eyes are glued to the edge of the bandages that peek out from under her armor.

Shepard doesn’t mention _what happened_ , just tells Tali that the Council sounds like they’re ready to take action. _Be stocked, be ready for action. Put in your requisitions before we dock so we can move out as quickly as possible._

Shepard is restless, moving around the cargo hold like a frenzied varren. Tali recognizes the same pacing strides that Keenah'Breizh took as they waited hours for permission to land on Illium.

After making her rounds and reassembling her rifle twice, Shepard finally pauses in front of Ashley’s locker.

Tali returns to the drive core. Watching her feels obscene. What can she say? This isn’t even slightly like Liara losing her mother. There's no _advice_ for something like this.

 _What would I say? 'It’s okay, Shepard. I also managed to get my own people killed, before we even met._ _There is nothing you can do about it, so keep your chin up!'_

Tali's mother had once told her that the key to revenge is to live a good life. The wisdom hardly seems to apply to this situation.

Writing the message to her father about her ordeal before boarding the Normandy had been grueling work -- it was practically a confession. Her demand to land near active geth, _her_ call to abandon the Honorata, the death of its pilot because _she_ suggested continuing on to Illium. Detouring to the Presidium and losing Keenah before they could make it to safety. Before _she_ could get _him_ to safety.

His reply had been brief.

* * *

> **Subject: Honorata**   
>  **From: Rael'Zorah vas Alarei**
> 
> Tali’Zorah nar Rayya,
> 
> The Honorata has been recovered from Illium fully intact. You’ve done well in identifying the geth presence beyond the Perseus Veil. We are investigating now. I know you’ll do what’s right.
> 
> Admiral Rael’Zorah vas Alarei

* * *

Surviving the odds had seemed defiant at the time, overcoming a hostile environment and trying to become someone, _something_ , that could extract compensation from Saren. But the price isn't equal. The bodies falling for Saren's cause are empty, worthless -- reanimated human husks, geth, mindless krogan clones with no past and no future.

Tali wills herself to be an instrument of equity. _Something_ that could make the data she had gathered worth the sacrifice. 

Trying to _be_ that person, that _thing_ , has proven impossible.

Supporting Shepard is the only alternative.

* * *

It feels like less than an hour after Joker announces that the Normandy has been grounded before it takes off again. _The Council is lucky that Shepard has the conviction to defy their orders,_ Tali decides. _If I were her, I don’t know if I could._

It’s as good a time as any to clean her shotgun. Ashley isn’t here to do it, but Tali hasn’t forgotten how. It just doesn't take as long now without the distraction of conversation.

A message on her omni-tool blinks to life, dragging her out of the mechanical motions of disassembly.

> **[Chakwas]** : You never checked in after your last mission.  
>  **[Chakwas]** : I need to approve you for combat before we arrive in the Refuge System, so please check in as soon as possible.

She tips her head down and breathes deeply, leaving the shotgun where it is. It’s not going anywhere.

* * *

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Dr. Chakwas greets her, gesturing to the exam table with one hand. A datapad is held in the other. “Please, take a seat, let’s talk.”

“I don’t have any broken bones,” is what Tali decides to lead with. She braces her palms on the edge and hops up, settling on the edge. “I tended my wounds and patched my suit breaches already. Is there anything else?”

Dr. Chakwas seems distracted, and when Tali asks the question, she does something on her datapad. The viewports to the medbay start to go dark, catching Tali’s attention. She catches barely a glimpse of Kaidan stepping into Shepard’s cabin before the glass goes opaque.

“Well,” Dr. Chakwas says, pointedly looking anywhere but in that direction, “a concerned crew member reported that you may have taken head trauma on Virmire. All I need is a head scan to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“Do I need to do anything?”

“No, dear. Just stay still for a moment.”

Dr. Chakwas initiates the scan on her datapad and the robotic arm over the exam table comes to life, smoothly bending and angling itself to take a snapshot of her brain. It hardly takes half a minute. The same procedure on the flotilla would take hours; old equipment repaired within an inch of its life wheezing to action, clean room procedure, the additional tests you do just because you're there anyway.

The doctor appraises the image in her hand for a moment and the arm returns to its inactive position, out of the way.

“Your head seems to be in good shape,” she says, offering a hand to Tali. She doesn’t need the help to step down from the table, but she takes it anyway, earning a kind smile from Dr. Chakwas. The human wraps her other hand over Tali’s palm, squeezing gently. “It’s a rather good one, or so I hear. Do try to take care of it.”

Smiling doesn’t feel right, just yet, but a small one ghosts over her mouth, anyway.

“Of course, Dr. Chakwas. Take care.”

* * *

Outside of the med bay, Kaidan is sitting in the mess. His back is turned to Tali, and he’s holding his forehead in his palms. The ensigns that were sitting there when she had arrived on the crew deck seem to have dispersed.

What happened? What could she possibly do to help at a time like this?

Tali stays close to the outer wall when she returns to the elevator, doing her best to stay out of his peripheral vision. He doesn't need to know that anyone saw him like this. Tali knows intimately how difficult it is to find privacy on a ship like this, and if she can gift him the illusion of solitude, then she'll gladly do so.

* * *

“So? How’s the noggin?” Wrex calls out to her from the wall. She looks up as she steps through the doors; he hasn’t moved from his normal position since she left for the med bay. He seems to be handling everything well. Unfazed, like all is well in the cargo bay. Like Ashley's ghost isn't hanging over him, like he's immune to being reminded of mortality. For a split second, Tali wants to feel bitter about it, but the feeling drains out of her limbs like water through a storm drain. 

_He’s just a krogan,_ Tali snipes -- then relents, chiding herself. _No. He’s just old._

_How did he know where I went?_

“Better than ever,” she replies a little late, waving a hand dismissively. “Chakwas thinks hitting my head actually made me smarter.”

“Look out, world,” Wrex agrees, seeming satisfied with her response. 

His eyes follow Tali as she approaches the weapons bench, and she frowns as she touches her fingers to her Solokov. The gun has been completely reassembled, the mods replaced -- her tungsten converter seems to have been upgraded, even. She looks to the krogan, but he just nods silently toward the Mako.

Garrus is already looking at her when she turns to face him. Turians emote differently, but Tali can see the same restlessness in his eyes that plagued Shepard a few hours ago. Aboard arguably the most advanced ship in the galaxy, and it’s still not getting him from Point A to Point B quickly enough.

“You were busy,” he says, and it’s the first time he hasn’t sounded entirely certain about the words coming out of his mouth. He doesn’t hold eye contact. “Joker said we’re approaching Ilos.”

“...thank you, Garrus.”

Tali stows the gun in her locker.

It doesn’t stay there for long.


	8. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Conduit turns out to be as dangerous as an unlocked back door. Tali sees ghosts on the Presidium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for suicide in this chapter. I've updated the fic's tags to account for this, and have also officially switched the rating to Explicit, though that won't come to fruition any time soon. I'd rather over-rate it from the get-go than accidentally expose some preteens to something in a month because I changed the rating incrementally.

The drop to Ilos is supposed to be dangerous. Complex ruins spiderweb across the surface of the drop point like microfractures in a sheet of glass. Logistically, Tali knows that managing to land so close to the tail end of Saren’s forces is a major accomplishment. She should be in awe, but it’s hard to feel imperiled by such a clean landing when she’s been completely upside down in this same vehicle after being flipped over by a thresher maw. 

The shuttered door to the facility hits the ground with a heavy rumble as the Mako hits land. Shepard pounds the dashboard with her fist and swears, putting the tires in reverse to counteract the momentum of the drop, stopping the vehicle abruptly. The jolt can almost be felt through the kinetic stabilizers.

Tali slips out of the Mako’s hatch at the same time as Garrus clambers into turret position and fires off a heavy shot at the door. The sound of it rings in her ears without the various protections of the vehicle, but the door remains unmoved. Shepard abandons the Mako, cracking off a shot at something Tali can’t see behind them. 

Tali touches her hand to the solid door, comparing it to the frame of the building. She’s no Prothean expert, but she has a little common sense from touring so many partially-uncovered ruins as of late.

“It’s as beat-up and faded as the rest of the building; if the shutter was open this whole time, it would have been out of the sun and the weather. The color and texture wouldn’t be the same.”

“Which means Saren had to find a way to open it from out here,” Shepard summarizes. Unfortunately, there aren’t any immediately obvious control panels around here.

“That might explain the horde of geth over there,” Garrus deadpans. “If I were to guess at why there are geth over there, in that direction, that might be why.”

Wordlessly, Shepard leads them over there, in that direction.

* * *

Inside the complex, it’s eerily quiet. Water rushes down grooves in flat pathways, invaded long ago by creeping vines and foliage that seem to thrive in the dark. The voice of the Prothean VI -- Vigil, it’s called -- is clear and inexpressive as Shepard interrogates it. Tali absorbs the information -- the scientists, the life support triage, the _Conduit_. She knew, instantly, where it led. Had the monument never been studied? Surely it _must_ have. It could have been disarmed. And yet... _this_ is happening.

Tali feels a pang of guilt for being grateful that Liara isn’t here. She isn’t sure the archaeologist would be able to pull herself away from a working Prothean VI as quickly as Shepard manages, and in an instant, they’re back on the elevator.

“Seems a little ridiculous,” Garrus muses. “Those Prothean scientists get to the Citadel and — what, reprogram the Keepers? But they can’t leave behind a digital diary in the Presidium that says ‘Hey, look out, future species. Giant sentient machines are coming to destroy your entire civilization.’ It’s the least they could have done.”

“That’s what the beacons were for,” Shepard says with a sigh, crossing her arms. “If we’d found them earlier...”

“Shepard,” Garrus interrupts, incredulous. “Didn’t the first one almost kill you? Then you needed to join minds with two different asari multiple times and take in a _completely different beacon_ just to get a clear picture?”

Shepard looks uncertain.

“Well...”

“I’m just _saying_. They could have written _Ilos_ on a wall. Left us coordinates, a brief audio recording — _something_.”

“From what I gathered,” Tali offers, carefully, “the Keepers completely wipe the station for the next civilization to arrive. Maybe they did leave something else, but it didn’t survive.”

Garrus scoffs, appraising the commander. “Well. They could have put something too high up for the Keepers to reach. They’re what, five feet tall? Around Shepard’s height.”

“I might have mentioned that we have a universe to save,” Shepard says as the elevator returns them to the Mako. “Save some of your valuable theories and tactical criticism for the documentarians.”

* * *

“Hello, your appointment with the Council is scheduled for approximately five months, four days, three hours, 14 minutes, 27 seconds from now. **Warning** : due to unforeseen circumstances, this estimate may no longer be accurate. Please evacuate the Presidium immediately.”

When they pass through the Conduit, the Avina terminal on the other side of it greets them, glitching cheerily as she updates Shepard on how many districts burn and instructs them on proper evacuation protocols. The fires, the geth -- the empty halls and broken glass, bodies in the water below.

_"I’m sorry, Council reception is by appointment only. I can put you in the queue. Approximate wait time is approximately seven months,” Avina estimates cheerfully._

_“Ey, what’s this? What’re you two up to? Show me some identification.”  
_

It’s impossible to conceive of the idea that just months ago, this VI told her she looked unhealthy.

_“Get lost, suit-rat.”_

Keenah was shot here. The crowds had parted around them, a system of bodies on the pristine white Presidium flooring orbiting a dying quarian like a star.

Those people are nowhere, now. Hiding in burning storefronts, crumbling apartments, praying the geth don’t find them. Hoping to be as invisible to the synthetics as those quarians were to them back then.

They’re gone. Keenah is gone.

Tali is still here.

* * *

Countless geth and krogan fall between the Conduit and the tower, and still, her voice is the weapon she chooses for the final confrontation.

Shepard makes a plea for the galaxy. For children that haven’t grown up, for fathers that haven’t learned to apologize, for daughters that haven’t learned to love themselves. For sons to love, and mothers to create. On behalf of communities and outcasts, on behalf of outlaws and innocents -- she begs for Saren’s very _soul_. 

She sways him. His mouth opens as if to speak, but the words don’t fully form before he’s punished for it -- his body shakes as he grips the back of his cowl, gasping and growling with the pain, glowing a cold and violent blue from the cavernous hollow where heart and lungs should be. 

He stands straight up. Turian. Organic. There is a muted agony in his voice when he speaks up again. Resigned. 

She doesn’t accept the excuse.

“It’s not over yet!” Shepard moves from cover. Shields down, gun pointed to the floor. Blue eyes are full of fire, cheeks flushed red, sweat beading on her cheeks. “You can still redeem yourself!” 

A single bullet could put her in the dirt forever.

He gives her one last gaze, and by now, it’s unreadable. In Sovereign’s image, Saren has been remade in ice.

“Goodbye, Shepard. Thank you.”

The light goes out of his eyes before anyone sees him move his pistol.

* * *

_"Opening the relays now, Joker. We need to save the Ascension, no matter what the cost!”_

Sovereign’s debris gains momentum as it approaches them and Garrus grabs Tali’s arm, dragging her back behind him before it crashes into the ground. The structure of it wails as it settles -- hot and sentient, screaming as the life goes out of it, completely covering them. The sound of more pieces hitting the floor of the Presidium is deafening.

She can’t see, everything goes dark and dazed in an instant. Her sides hurt. Her _everything_ hurts. 

_Shepard’s eyes glance from the controls to the court garden below the council chambers, mere embers of what they’d been before Saren had--_

_“Make sure he’s dead.”_

_Garrus is full seconds ahead of Tali, stalking forward with purpose. He delivers two bullets to Saren’s skull before she fully recovers from the landing._

_“He’s dead.”_

Shepard had _begged_ him to help her stop Sovereign, even as the ship -- the _creature_ \-- had loomed in the distance, and for what? Saren still died. He’d still--

_The station quakes. Saren’s body jerks upward as if by magnetism, the mincemeat of his head lolling around lifelessly on a dead neck. Garrus connects with the support beam with the sickening twang of metal colliding at high speeds, Tali has the fortune of only being thrown a few yards into the dirt._

_Saren’s skin boils away, his slack lower jaw falls away, disintegrating with his mandibles. Metallic flesh emerges, extending from the tatters of until-recently living tissue, gleaming with the faintest blue tint of blood._

Tali is halfway between nausea and unconsciousness, but she can hear Garrus breathing in front of her; with great difficulty, from the sound of it. She clings to that sound, grasping her side.

A loud crash as a piece of the rubble is removed, the light pours in. She squints. A C-Sec officer.

Anderson responds to his call immediately, crawling into the rubble while the officer tends to a burn on the turian’s arm. He approaches Tali, and the gentle confidence in his voice is a balm sorely needed for a wound she didn’t realize she’d sustained.

“Take it easy... it’s over. You’re safe now.”

_“Go!” Shepard sees Sovereign’s pieces coming before she or Garrus have even processed the explosion. That it could be defeated. That it could be killed. Yards ahead of her, she and Garrus scramble for cover, and Shepard--_

“Where’s the commander? Where’s Shepard?”

Tali turns her head to the wreckage behind her, a massive Reaper leg bent in the middle. Anderson follows her gaze. Turns his head skyward, closes his eyes momentarily. He helps her get to her feet.

Ahead of her, Garrus limps, unassisted, gazing back at the fires.

From the wreckage, Shepard emerges -- alien red blood stains her side and a wide smile stains her mouth, hand clasped over her wound as she climbs, lands, _strides_ forward to meet Anderson.

“How did it go, convincing the ambassador?” she asks, and the pain isn’t enough to stop the genuine joy from showing in her smile, the mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I take it we won?”

“We won,” declares Anderson, grabbing at her extended hand to clap her on the back. “You made sure of that.”

“Good,” Shepard says, looking back at the destruction. “I was getting mixed signals. And my crew,” she says, breaking away from Anderson. She wraps an arm under Tali’s shoulder and pulls Garrus forward, though he’s far too tall for her to get her arm around anything but his waist. She goes for the group hug anyway.

Tali groans. Garrus hisses. Shepard’s wincing too, but she's happy enough to laugh as she steps back, returning pressure to her side.

“You made me proud today. You made the galaxy proud. Now go slap some medi-gel on that, you two look like death warmed over.”

Mercifully, C-Sec spares a shuttle for the heroes of the Citadel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments! I'm really shy about answering but it's really nice to see what's left for me the morning after I post! (I'm fond of having parts quoted, also; it lets me get a feeling for what's landing with my repeat-readers.)  
> EDIT: Okay, I think I caught ALL the spelling and formatting issues... yikes.


	9. Ashore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali and Garrus officially leave the SR-1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Particularly pleased with how this one came out!

“You’re both clear to go,” Dr. Chakwas finally says, setting the datapad on her desk. “Will you be staying with the Normandy when the commander acts on her next orders?”

“I already told her I was going back to C-Sec,” Garrus says, sitting up. There’s a twang of regret in his tone, but his face doesn’t betray it. “I might have stayed if she asked, but the damage here is... extensive. The Citadel needs all the hands it can get.”

“I need to return to my people,” Tali agrees, lowering herself back to the floor. “My Pilgrimage is over, and the Migrant Fleet needs to know what I’ve seen. I think I can help Shepard prepare to fight the Reapers better there than here.”

She can feel their eyes on her, but she doesn’t feel like she has to look back at them, this time. Tali has her gift, she _knows_ where she’s going. Her Pilgrimage may have been short, but the hidden dangers of the galaxy made themselves known to her in record time. It’s her duty to make them known to her people.

_It’s the right thing to do._

Dr. Chakwas wishes them well, giving them each a pat on the shoulder and making them promise to stay healthy. Tali thinks, not for the first time, that she would get along well with Shala’Raan.

* * *

Tali likes to think she’s matured a lot since leaving the flotilla. She doesn’t feel very mature when Adams starts patting her back mid-hug.

“It was amazing working with you, Chief Engineer Adams,” she ends up saying, pulling her arms behind her back as she steps away. “Thank you for going out of your way to make me feel so welcome on the Normandy.”

“It was a pleasure to work with you, Tali’Zorah,” Adams replies, and his smile reaches his eyes as he pats the side of his console. “I’m hoping my team picked up a few tricks from you, otherwise your absence is going to be tough on her.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” she says -- full of pride, dismissing his compliment with a wave of her hand. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

Garrus is waiting for her in the elevator.

* * *

Once they’ve collected their gear, they walk through the CIC together. It’s a wholly different experience than the first time she’d come aboard, rushed to the cargo bay by an old executive officer who kept finding a reason to look anywhere but at them.

Navigator Pressly stops them this time, offering a hand. It feels like years have passed since the day she arrived.

“Heard from Adams that we’re losing the best damned engineer on this ship,” he offers by way of an explanation, firmly shaking her hand. “We’re sad to see you go, Engineer Zorah. Next time you go on Pilgrimage, just let the commander know and I’m sure we can swing a shuttle by to pick you up.”

Not for the first time, she’s almost glad that her visor is so opaque from the outside. The silliest grin breaks out on her face, all of her teeth pressed hard together to keep from audibly laughing. ‘ _Next time you go on Pilgrimage_.’

_He’s trying, at least. Keelah, is he trying._

“I’ll let the commander know,” she promises, a hint of humor in her voice as he lets her go. Garrus is absolutely _amused_ in her peripheral vision.

“And you,” Pressly says, locking eyes and palms with Garrus. “Word is you didn’t miss all the geth you aimed for, turian.”

Garrus laughs outright, enthusiastically shaking his hand.

“Go easy on the praise, Pressly. You might never get rid of me.”

When Garrus passes into the airlock, someone whistles sharply. Tali turns her head to see Joker gesture her over; the door closes behind the turian. She complies with the request, taking the opportunity to gaze at the helm controls. It’s a gorgeous setup.

“I didn’t say this,” Joker says, looking around shiftily. The combat coordinators are mostly ashore or gathered by the galaxy map, so it’s all an exaggeration for her benefit. “ _But,_ you’re my favorite of all the kooks the commander picked up. Don’t get hurt out there, Tali.”

She has no idea what a ‘kook’ is. It doesn’t translate, but the sentiment from the grouchy pilot lands with about as much impact as the Mako. She already knows she’ll miss the Normandy as much as she used to miss the Rayya, the new ache in her bones is far from unfamiliar.

“No promises, Joker.”

* * *

“Don’t most Pilgrimages take at least a year or two?” Garrus asks when they finally clear the Normandy. She’s almost surprised to find that he waited for her this time, as well. “I didn’t personally deal with any quarians when I was working at C-Sec, but the ones that got hauled in had almost always been brought in for questioning a few dozen times before.”

Tali doesn’t bother getting mad. She just looks at him for a few seconds while he processes the silence. His mandibles flick outward from his face after a moment and he clears his throat, looking ahead.

“That... didn’t come out right. I just mean... aren’t you moving a little fast? I never saw you in the wards before we found you outside the markets, and I was there a few times a week. How long were you on the Citadel before that?”

“Take a guess,” she suggests, arms crossed. He starts the elevator down to C-Sec.

“A few weeks. A month. Two months.” Garrus keeps looking at her with those searching eyes, as if he’d be able to read whatever reaction she has under her helmet. Tali takes pity on him and raises up one finger. His browplates lower slightly as he tries to determine the time frame. “One week?”

“One day. A little less than that. I spent most of it in lockup.”

“Oh,” he says.

“Tali! Garrus!” Shepard is beaming at them when the doors open, leaning on Kaidan for support. The lieutenant looks sheepish to have been caught with an arm around the commander, but he doesn’t move to change the situation. “Guess which species is officially on the Council?”

Garrus shifts his weight from one leg to the other, crossing his arms and looking up at the ceiling. He clicks his tongue lightly, the very picture of a turian intellectual.

“Don’t tell me the _volus_ finally got their seat? Did the Protectorate invent the sequel to medi-gel while we were off saving the galaxy?”

“Congratulations, Shepard,” Tali offers, pointedly veering away from the path of sarcasm. “That’s wonderful news!”

“Yeah, well...” Shepard’s mood visibly drops as she regards their surroundings, evidently not for the first time. 

The Academy is in a state of emergency, the skeleton crew of officers left behind darting from here to there and back again. There are bullet holes in the walls, electrical burns. Bodies have been cleared, but the bloodstains haven’t been dealt with yet - more than a few trails of blue and red abruptly stop at the rapid transit terminal. 

Saren hit here first to cut off internal communications, C-Sec is probably in even worse shape than it looks. 

Shepard looks back from the destruction in the area at about the same time that Tali does, and the smile on her face is gone, now, replaced by an expression Tali has grown all too familiar with over the weeks of service.

“We lost a lot of good people,” Shepard says, finally. She takes note of Garrus, back in his polished C-Sec blues. “I take it you’re making good on your plans, then, Garrus?” A note of pride overrides the exhaustion in her voice, and Garrus straightens up hearing it.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Glad to hear it.” Shepard’s gaze returns to Tali, and she fixes her posture as well. “And you’ll be returning to the Migrant Fleet?”

“Yes, Shepard. I’ll have to wait a few days for a quarian vessel to pick me up, but it won’t be a problem.”

“I see,” says Shepard, a little distantly. Her omnitool comes to life on her wrist and she sighs heavily, leaning a little more on Kaidan as she dismisses the blinking notification. He doesn’t complain. How could he? “Well, it’s not the ideal farewell, but my inbox is filling up with summons from the good doctor to come in for a real checkup, so... I guess this is goodbye?”

“We can still message you, Shepard,” Tali reminds her, gently. “It’s not as if we’re dying.”

“You’d better not,” Shepard warns.

Tali steps forward and balances on her toes to seize a little extra height, covering Kaidan and Shepard in a hug -- more mindful of Shepard’s injuries than Shepard had been of hers. _Kaidan’s_ fine, so Tali shows _him_ no mercy. He wraps a solid forearm around her back and squeezes, while Shepard just leans her cheek into Tali’s chest.

“Take care, both of you. Think fondly of me when you’re killing geth.” When Tali steps out of the way, Garrus amicably claps Kaidan on the shoulder, serrated grin diminished by the downward tilt of his head. 

“Don’t let her push you around _too_ much, Staff Lieutenant.”

Kaidan’s smile pulls hard to one side of his face, and he can’t help that his eyes flicker to Shepard’s for a moment. The commander smiles at the attention; a bit of the exhaustion in her skin fades away.

“If it’s all the same, I’m smart enough to know better than to get in her way.”

* * *

> **Subject: [no subject]  
> ** **From: Commander Shepard**
> 
> Tali,
> 
> I thought I’d catch you on the Normandy before we said goodbye, but the Council meeting took longer than I expected. _When I was sending Ashley’s belongings back to her family, I found something she would have wanted to share with you and had a few copies made; it completely slipped my mind to hand over your copy when we ran into you and Garrus in the Academy. I sent word to Serpent Souvenirs to have another copy ready for you to pick up; it’s a little kiosk in the Lower Wards, just across from the giant crater that was formerly Chora’s Den. Let me know if you have any trouble with the clerk._
> 
> It’s not urgent, of course, but I wanted to let you know that you have the option.
> 
> Thanks again for everything you’ve done. You’ll always have a place in my crew if you ever need a break from everyone asking for your autograph back home.
> 
> Shepard

* * *

When Tali asks the salarian for a copy of Shepard’s last purchase, he doesn’t give her a hard time about it at all -- he just fabricates it and hands it over. It’s so different from every other transaction she’s experienced since leaving the flotilla, by way of being denied service by vendors, ignored outright, or sitting by idly while Shepard interrogates every clerk that mentions anything more than having goods for sale.

“That seems like an unsafe business practice for your customers,” she muses, taking the holo -- it’s a holo -- and putting it into her pocket without activating it. That can wait until later. “Letting customers collect orders without showing identification.”

“I saw you in the news vids,” he says with salarian salesman lilt, and maybe even a little awe. His lower eyelids flicker. Dark eyes scan over her face and he drums his fingers on the countertop excitedly. “I’d recognize that shade of purple anywhere.”

* * *

Tali loiters around the docks, and for the first time in nearly three hundred years, C-Sec has far too many irons in the fire to waste time arresting a quarian for vagrancy. It’s a bitter thought, it festers between her ears like an untended wound.

_Thanks, Sovereign. You managed to do some good, after all._

Her omni-tool lights up. A message from Garrus.

> **[Garrus]** : Hey. When are you getting picked up?  
>  **[Tali]** : Sometime this week. I was going to get passage on a supply shuttle that was on its way here, but they’re going to have to postpone indefinitely.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Right. Casualties were heavy in traffic control.

Tali surveys the docks, tables and seating teeming with people who can’t leave, waiting for the all clear. Playing cards, sharing stories, idly tapping at their omni-tools.

A group of children toward the far end of the bay have started playing a game that requires them to contort into ridiculous shapes within the confines of a holographic cube. A young asari is making a near perfect upside down U shape with her legs and arms while an older asari looks on from the sidelines with amusement, and one of the taller human children is struggling not to fall on top of her. The flashing light of a new message on her omni-tool breaks her attention away from the game, but the smile on her lips lingers.

> **[Garrus]** : Where are you staying?  
>  **[Tali]** : The loading docks, Bay C21. I found a nice empty shipping crate that I can fit into if I bend in half. I’ve been paying off the dock workers to pretend that I’m fragile, unclaimed cargo.

She leans against the planter, smiling at the fib as she keys it in. Garrus doesn’t respond as quickly, this time. 

The tall human child yelps as he starts to fall, and the asari on the sidelines reacts quickly with her hands, putting him into a light biotic stasis so he doesn’t knock the other children over. A human woman rushes over to take his hand, carefully guiding him out of the tangle of children so he doesn’t fall. The young asari lifts up an arm once he’s been removed from the competition and cheers her triumph without even wobbling in place. The sound of laughter drifts past the idle chatter of the rest of the bay like the sound of birdsong reaching deep into a dark cave.

> **[Garrus]** : I’m going to pretend that you just told me you’re staying in a hotel.

She smiles.

> **[Tali]** : Whatever makes it easier for you, Garrus.

It’s nice to have someone to chat with. It’s only been two days, but without having Adams around to debate the upper limits of stress the Normandy’s stealth drive could _really_ take before cooking the engineering deck... it’s quiet, even with the sheer number of people around her. She recalls a crowd, orbiting a pool of purple blood in the Presidium. The birdsong fades away and she’s left in the cave, silence echoing off of endless walls of rock. It’s suffocating.

The light of her omni-tool illuminates the darkness and her chest rises sharply, taking in the breath she hadn’t noticed denying herself.

> **[Garrus]** : Executor Pallin has me clearing out geth; they’re locked down on level 12 in the wards. If you loan me your arm, you can borrow my couch until your shuttle gets here.  
>  **[Tali]** : What do you plan to do with just my arm?

Garrus takes a little while responding to this one, too. Tali’s already walking back by the elevator, hailing a skycar. Shooting geth is something to do, at least.

> **[Garrus]** : Tali.  
>  **[Tali]** : Don’t be so grim! I’m already on the way.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Good. Meet you in the Academy, I’ll fill you in on the way.


	10. Bitter & Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali tends to some business on the Citadel while she waits to return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this one really early today, I ended up writing on mobile until I fell asleep after I posted last night's chapter...

“Lang, Tali,” says Garrus, gesturing vaguely between them with one hand. “Tali, Lang.”

“I know who she is,” the human says, a little of that awe in his voice. Tali still isn’t sure how to accept that the awe is for _her_. And besides—

“Tali’Zorah nar Rayya. We’ve met,” she says, shaking his hand. He glances down to watch the gesture before he looks back up at her. “Eddie, right? You were distracted by Commander Shepard when you introduced yourself, so I can’t blame you if I didn’t make an impression.”

“Ma’am,” he stammers, apologetically. He looks like he wants to salute or apologize — she feels _bad_ for him. He’s a solid block of a human; sturdy, squarish. His armor looks new, and he doesn’t seem used to the full complement of guns on his back.

Garrus has a highly amused glint in his eye as he gestures to the elevator. As they assemble inside, a broken light flickers. Mercifully, there’s no blood on the floor.

“So,” Garrus begins, “the executor wants all the geth on this level dealt with. He was very clear about not caring _how._ He can’t exactly afford to be picky, at the moment. But C-Sec has enough to deal with right now without cleaning up broken glass and bullet holes, and this is _my_ operation now, so...”

“No collateral damage,” Tali supplies. Garrus gives a pleased flick of the mandibles at her answer, and she’s relieved that he _did_ intend for someone to finish his sentence.

“Right.” Garrus folds his arms behind his back, standing up a little straighter. “What can you tell Officer Lang about geth, Tali?”

Tali folds her arms behind her back.

“Geth network together with other platforms in the immediate area. The more there are, the more intelligent they are. As their numbers start to drop, they fight more recklessly. They typically have strong shields, and they’re resistant to being hacked for more than a few seconds. You can’t hack the same platform twice unless you have multiple different override processes available on one omni-tool.”

Tali looks to Garrus, and he seems pleased with her overview. The elevator stopped on level 13 a few seconds ago, and the turian is holding his omni-tool over the control panel, casually pausing their descent so they have time to discuss. He looks to Lang.

“I know you haven’t been in the field much, Lang, so I want you to just be careful for this first floor. Keep in cover when you can, and don’t stick so much as a finger out into the open unless your shields are at full strength. Keep to tech-based attacks, and try to only use your gun at short range. I want as few stray bullets as possible.”

“Yes, sir!” Lang straightens his posture, losing his balance when the elevator shudders to life again. Garrus taps to one side of the doors with one hand and the human takes cover there, holding his shotgun to his chest like a religious artifact.

 _Elanus Risk Control,_ Tali notices. _Ash wouldn’t approve._

The elevator doors open on level 12 and Garrus whispers for Lang to hold position, quickly scanning the ward in front of them and gesturing for Tali to follow. He vaults over the frame of what had formerly been a nearly wall-height window to the right of the elevator, a former conference room of some sort. The combat sensor on Tali’s pistol is already jammed by the time she crouches next to his new position and she sighs in frustration. Why even bother using this thing? All she ever seems to fight is _geth_. It never _works_.

Garrus shuffles along the width of the former window frame, only emerging for brief seconds to check for hostiles. Following his hand signals, Tali leaps over the frame, taking cover behind the narrow part of the hall divider and facing back toward the turian.

“Tali’Zorah nar Rayya, your health has seen better days,” a sultry asari voice oozes from the ad terminal, a few feet away from Tali’s new position. In front of her, Garrus freezes, his head just visible above the half wall. Tali pulls up her omni-tool ‘s visual interface and begins furiously trying to bring her disruption program online. “The Sirta Foundation has the cure for what ails you.”

The sound of alert geth mobilizing echoes from the far end of the hall. A giant kohl-ringed blue eye gazes out of the holographic display, making an attempt at enticement. “Shouldn’t you treat yourself better with a military-grade medical exoskeleton, installed _right_ into your envirosuit? Slim, efficient, powerful... _nobody_ needs to know—”

Tali overloads the advertisement in a flicker of sparks, heart pounding as she holds her pistol against her chest.

“Breathe.” Garrus speaks quietly over the comm line, voice steady as he disappears behind the frame. Tali supports herself on it, readying up for the approaching geth. She can hear them coming, but her radar is still jammed, and she can’t afford to check around either corner and expose herself.

“Two geth on your left, one on your right,” Garrus dictates calmly. “Ready a hack for one on your left, then execute it and feint right. Don’t fire. Be quiet, and go when I say.”

Tali readies her standard geth override, waiting with bated breath. She can hear the metallic whirr getting closer as synthetic limbs approach on either side.

“Go,” says Garrus, and Tali blindly hacks one of the geth on her left, pressing her back to the divider and sliding to the right. The geth trooper newly in front of her falls to the floor instantly with a shattered headlight. Garrus sinks back down behind the frame with his overheated Volkov and Tali can hear the troopers through the divider behind her, tearing each other to shreds. 

Garrus moves from cover just as Tali’s hack wears out, overloading the two defenseless geth with a wave of his omni-tool.

“Wow,” says Eddie Lang.

“Move up,” says Garrus, advancing toward the source of the geth. “They know we’re here, now.”

* * *

Garrus slides a sealed beverage across the low table toward where she sits on the couch. The thin trail of moisture it leaves in its wake suggests it’s chilled.

“A bribe?” 

Tali says the question more than asks it, rotating the canister on the table.

He takes a seat at one of the narrow ends of the table, a roguish smile on his face, weighted more to his left mandible. This is the first time she’s seen Garrus in actual clothes, and she finds she’s not at all surprised that even his civvies are black and blue.

“What, a turian can’t get something nice for his crime-fighting partner at the end of a long day of putting down synthetics?”

Tali lets the quiet speak for itself, drumming her fingers on her thigh. Garrus is finally starting to catch on to this tactic, so he just sighs in exasperation, gears turning in his head as he leans back in his chair and dutifully performs the introspection that her silence so cruelly demands of him.

“It’s an apology,” he decides, crossing his legs. He nods after a second, as if confirming with himself. “For putting you in a dangerous situation. I assumed that nonessential automated systems like the ad terminals would have been disabled remotely before C-Sec sent officers down to clear the area, but I should have guessed it might slip their minds. I should have been prepared.”

It’s an adequate apology, even if he didn’t technically apologize. Admitting a mistake is a big deal for him.

Tali holds a hand out to the turian, grabbing expectantly at empty air.

“You brought me an induction port, I hope?”

Garrus’ mandibles flick outward in a grin and he produces one from his sleeve, still wrapped in its hypoallergenic casing.

“It would be a pretty shitty apology gift if you couldn’t drink it.”

* * *

Detective Chellick approaches her when she arrives back in the C-Sec Academy from level 10 of the wards, looking like the dead. Garrus is escorting Lang to the skycar terminal; the poor guy had gotten a little excited, miscalculated an overload, and taken a bullet to the leg for his efforts. He can’t put much weight on it, but a quick patch job will have him back on his feet by tomorrow.

Chellick barely looks at Tali when he addresses her, preferring to cast his eyes elsewhere. The only way she’s sure he’s speaking to _her_ is because he stops less than two feet in front of her and says, “You were on Commander Shepard’s squad during the battle.”

“Are you asking me or telling me, detective?” Tali can’t help the sarcasm in her voice, or the way her body language goes on the defensive. Thankfully, the turian seems too tired to acknowledge it. Her tongue tastes bitter.

“Telling,” says Chellick. Lang’s taxi pulls away and Garrus notices the confrontation, quickly returning to Tali’s side.

“Detective Chellick,” Garrus greets him mildly, glancing between them. “I see you’ve met Tali.”

“Tali’Zorah nar Rayya,” she says, crossing her arms as she tilts her head up toward the turian in front of her. In her _way_. “Is there a problem here, officer? I thought the Normandy would count as _honest passage_ , but perhaps that still isn’t good enough for you.”

 _Finally,_ there’s a flicker of recognition in Chellick’s eyes, and his nose wrinkles instantly in response. Garrus pokes two fingers into Tali’s back, hard, looking at her without turning his head away from the detective. She refuses to acknowledge the touch and takes no pains to make her stance any more friendly or inviting.

_If this turian bosh’tet had let us go sooner, that mercenary wouldn’t have caught up with us. Keenah would be alive, right now, back on the flotilla, with his family._

_If he’d looked at the data, maybe we could have stopped the geth before they hit the Citadel. All of this is his own fault._

Chellick turns on his heel abruptly at the sustained hostility, throwing a dismissive hand up into the air as he stalks away.

“I don’t have time for this. Someone else deal with her.”

“What the hell was that about, Tali,” Garrus asks, evenly, when Chellick is safely out of earshot. It’s the tone he's been using over comms when everything is going to hell and he doesn't want to alarm Lang.

“Nothing,” she says, uncrossing her arms. “I’m picking up food in the markets by Dr. Michel’s place.” _Leave me alone, I don’t want to talk about it._ “Do you want anything?”

Garrus looks uncertain whether he should push the subject, but ultimately he seems to think better of it. 

“Whatever you think is best. I’ll finish up here and meet you there so we can taxi back together.”

“See that you do.”

* * *

When Garrus arrives at the agreed-upon skycar terminal, he seems quieter. He’s wise enough not to remark on the small pile of petty purchases that Tali has managed to accrue in the mere hour they’ve been apart.

He opens the taxi door for her, then gets in. Garrus just hits the home option and lets the biometrics and autopilot do the rest, sinking into his seat.

“So,” Tali says.

“So,” Garrus echoes.

“C-Sec,” Tali says.

“C-Sec,” Garrus agrees. “They want you to record a training vid for dealing with the geth stragglers.”

Tali snorts at the idea, turning her head to look out the window. _Ridiculous._

The wards are teeming with people below, glittering with bright holographic lights and fast-moving skycars flitting around below and above an artificial sky. The artifice of it, the magnitude — it just reminds her that all of this is widely barred from her people. The height of spacefaring sophistication, passed down by the Protheans to _all_ people, only for a small handful of species to deny access as they see fit.

“I think you should do it,” Garrus continues, after a few moments of inaction. She turns to look at him — to give him that silent stare, again — but he’s busy looking out his own window, down the same view. “It would help save a lot of lives.”

_No, not the same view._

Looking out at those millions of civilians he’s sworn to protect. The reflection of his eyes in the glass is unfocused, unsure, but his mandibles press to his face like they do when he’s playing a difficult hand of Skyllian-Five. 

Tali sighs heavily, deflating. She sinks back into her chair, kicking the dashboard harmlessly.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.”

* * *

“Hopper platforms are highly mobile, but slow to line up their shots,” Tali says, pulling up the schematics on her omni-tool. No quarian aspires to be watched by so many C-Sec eyes, but now that she’s actually here, she’s _proud_ of showing off the information she’s managed to gather on her travels with Shepard. There’s a payoff to the process. Acknowledgement, even if it's silent.

_I'm important enough to be here._

“They can launch themselves from any flat surface and attach to whatever flat surface they touch, but their platforms sacrifice processing power that could be used for quick targeting for lightweight materials and maneuverability. Sapper models have a white chassis. Ghost models use superheated metals as ammo for their long distance shots, like Sovereign, so they have a denser chassis made with heat-resistant materials. The important difference is that Sappers are white and Ghosts are black, and each platform has different technical and combat capabilities. They use identical targeting beams, but Sappers focus on sabotage. Treat Ghost platforms more like a traditional sniper.”

Her diagram enlarges to show the nearly identical designs, each labeled appropriately with list of platform abilities conveniently detailed below. The data beams to the small crowd gathered in front of her, many of whom eagerly check the projections, scrolling through the data.

“Hoppers use their vantage point to aim behind partial cover, but it leaves _them_ exposed once they dig in and begin lining up their shot. Since their platforms are so lightweight, they can easily be pulled away from walls with a biotic field, and this will disable their targeting processes, neutralizing them and leaving them vulnerable to attack.”

By the back wall, she spots Detective Chellick looking through his omni-tool. Garrus seems to be discussing something with him.

“Next, I’ll be going over the Heavy platforms -- Juggernauts, Destroyers, and Primes. While the bulk of geth platforms are 6 feet tall, Heavy platforms are twice the size and contain a much larger number of geth programs. When networked with other nearby geth platforms, their presence makes the opposition much smarter...”

* * *

_“Later tonight, we’ll be interviewing these former C-Sec employees who have come out of retirement in the aftermath of the recent attack on the Citadel by disgraced former Council Spectre, Saren Arterius. Officials speaking on behalf of the Heirarchy are calling for every capable pair of turian hands to apply for positions in traffic control in response to the heavy casualties following the attack. Here’s a clip from the emergency press conference earlier today.”_

“ _Circumstances are not ideal,”_ come the dutiful military tones of Councilor Sparatus, _“but in the face of terrorism, we must relinquish the fairytale of the ideal and accept the difficult reality. The Citadel is not presently hurting for food, but if our dock workers are unable to begin processing vehicles more quickly, we may be facing a shortage by the end of this month, and both repairs on damaged wards and debris removal efforts will be significantly stalled--”_

Garrus sighs and turns the terminal off, his eyes training on Tali as she plays with the inactive holo in her hands.

“Are you ever going to actually look at that thing?”

“Maybe,” Tali says, placing the small, flat square on her palm. “I should.”

“You should,” Garrus agrees.

Tali doesn’t move for a few, long seconds.

“It’s stupid,” she sighs, finally, but it’s more frustrated than melancholy. “I keep thinking, ‘Tali’Zorah, if you look at this, that’s it. There isn’t anything else.’ Do you know what I mean?”

“No,” he says. “Not at at all.”

She turns the holo on, greeted by a projection of herself, Ashley, Kaidan, and Liara. Ashley’s hair is down to one side, mid-laugh as she holds up a pair of fingers up behind Kaidan’s head. Her other hand is missing — capturing the moment on her omni-tool. Grinning, Kaidan has a friendly hand on Liara’s shoulder where she’s sitting just ahead of him, comically out of place with her awkward, mandatory-school-photo smile. Her dainty blue hands aren’t visible, but Tali can practically see her nervously wringing her hands in her lap.

Tali’s fingers are partially carded through Ashley’s hair on the side where it sweeps behind her back, mussing it sharply upward as she leans in from behind the two humans. Her other arm drapes comfortably over Kaidan’s shoulder.

_“Group shot!” Ashley calls out, summoning Kaidan and Liara to her with the sweep of a muscular arm. “Get in here, Tali!”_

_Tali bounces forward and applies herself to the dynamic of the shot while Ashley prepares her omni-tool. “Everybody say ‘Girls night!’”_

_“Actually, asari don’t experience gender the same way other species—”_

_“Girls night!” Tali and Kaidan chorus, bunching up closer to Ashley, leaning on her as she falls prey to a case of the giggles._

_“And now a funny one,” Kaidan says, grinning from ear to ear._

_“You_ are _the funny one, LT.”_

“When was this taken?” Garrus asks. Tali realizes she hasn’t spoken in a while.

“Tuntau,” she says, distantly. “The turian profiteer. Shepard let us off the clock early before Joker picked you up.”

“Right,” Garrus says, still looking at the image. There's something far away about his voice. “Yeah.”

_As the elevator lets her off onto the lower decks, Wrex stares out into nothing. Red eyes don't follow her the way they usually do. Garrus sprawls out on top of the Mako in his hardsuit, arms behind his head, staring up at the top of the cargo bay. Knees bent, his legs are crossed and he's rhythmically bouncing one leg. She keeps her footfalls light as she makes her way back to the drive core, careful not to break them out of whatever they're thinking about._

Tali flicks the holo off and puts it back in her pocket.

* * *

> **Subject: Hey!**   
>  **From: Tali’Zorah nar Rayya**
> 
> Liara,
> 
> I’ve been busy clearing geth on the Citadel while I wait for transport back to the Migrant Fleet, I’m so sorry we didn’t get a chance to see each other off before the Normandy left! I heard that you might be staying on for a while. I’m relieved to know that Shepard will still have someone as reliable as you on her ground team.
> 
> I’m not sure how much time I will have for long distance social calls after I’m accepted onto the Neema, but we can always write. Let’s keep in touch!
> 
> Best of luck and safe travels, Liara T’Soni vas Normandy.
> 
> Tali


	11. Clean Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly but surely, the Citadel gets its outbound transportation in order.

When Tali wakes up in the apartment, it's to the quiet drone of the FCC news station in the background. Emily Wong's voice is hardly an indistinct buzz, and the closed captions are on. Garrus is nowhere to be found.

Tali yawns, stretching, letting a few joints pop. It's pleasantly surprising to find that the remains of dinner have been cleaned up -- Garrus had pulled up a menu for a dextro place around the corner and told her to pick whatever she wanted as thanks for presenting. Tali had been so _resolved_ to be self-reliant on her Pilgrimage so that she would never find herself in the terrible position of owing anyone anything -- somehow, she had ended up on one of the most advanced ships in the galaxy, practically handed top of the line weapons and ammo. She earned her keep, though, and would dare anyone to suggest she hadn't; killing geth, decrypting data, disassembling dozens of ancient probes with careful fingers. 

However, in lieu of her recent service, a free dinner had _certainly_ been earned. Despite the promise of "whatever you want", the process had been difficult, even sharing chirality -- it's easy to forget on a military ship where everyone eats equally unappetizing ration bars, but turian diets are _so_ strictly meat, and quarian diets are even _more_ strictly plant matter. Garrus had commented with a sort of awed disdain that turians would die out in under a year if they could only survive off of what they could cultivate in liveships, and Tali had happily stored it away as a compliment.

It's good to know that Garrus is as meticulous with his home as with his firearms, even if home is a relative term in such a small living space. It almost makes her long for the roomy accommodations of the Mako. On the table by the couch, Garrus has left an unopened bottle of water and a still-sealed straw.

Tali rolls her shoulders again and turns up the volume on the broadcast, pointedly ignoring the notifications blinking on her omni-tool. She's just waking up, she'll _get_ to it.

_"...thousands of wayward civilians are celebrating today as the first nonessential vessel in over a week leaves Dock E25. The Council has extended a statement of gratitude, thanking the newly employed traffic controllers who responded so quickly to meet the needs of the many..."_

Tali mutes the newscast, pulling up her inbox.

* * *

> **Subject: Extraction  
> ** **From: Kara’Tolis vas Tonbay**
> 
> Tali’Zorah,
> 
> The Citadel is beginning to let civilian vessels dock again. I’ve secured permission to pick you up from Docking Bay B19 later, but please be swift to arrive when I call. We’re happy to grant you safe passage back to the flotilla, but due to the nature of our arrangement with the docking officials, if we stay any longer than an hour, we will be subject to a cargo inspection and we'll have to join the queue with the other vessels that have been stuck here.
> 
> Kara’Tolis

* * *

> **Subject: [no subject]**   
>  **From: Garrus Vakarian**
> 
> Decided to let you sleep. You deserve a day off after yesterday. Don't do anything too crazy before I get back.
> 
> G

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Hey!  
> ** **From: Liara T’Soni**
> 
> Dear Tali,
> 
> I regret that I was not able to see you off, but I know you would not slight me purposefully. Were our positions opposite, it is likely I would have done the same. At the time you disembarked, Shepard had asked me to meet with an excavation team and STG unit selected by Councilors Tevos and Valern, respectively, to debrief them on the location of the Mu Relay and our drop point on Ilos. Suffice to say, we each had our hands full.
> 
> I have heard about the issues presented by the situation in C-Sec, all of those traffic controllers gone. It is a horrible thing. I hope that your stay on the station has been agreeable, now that you are a hero of the Citadel, though I do not envy you the attention you must draw.
> 
> Wrex has also parted ways with the Normandy; he mentioned having unfinished business back home. He told me not to expect him to write back if I sent him a novel, but Kaidan assures me that Wrex was merely teasing. I am sure he would tell you to take care in his own unique way, had I the foresight to ask him. The lieutenant, however, sends his regards.
> 
> You did not ask in your message, but I thought it might bring you relief to know that Commander Shepard has recovered from the injuries she sustained on the Citadel. Our current task is investigating potential geth signals and sightings in the Omega Nebula, and Shepard has pledged to keep an eye out for anything you may find valuable.
> 
> We all miss you terribly.
> 
> Goddess go with you,
> 
> Liara T’Soni

* * *

> **Subject: [no subject]  
>  From: Urdnot Wrex**
> 
> Hey, kid. Got this address from Shepard.
> 
> Heard you and the turian ditched this overdesigned cruise liner as soon as you could walk. No time to say goodbye to your old buddy Wrex?
> 
> Good for you. Glad to see you making choices for yourself. No promises that I’ll write back if you get precious on me.
> 
> Don’t forget how to hold a shotgun just because you killed one measly god. There’s more where that came from.
> 
> Wrex

* * *

> **Subject: Moving up in the world.  
> ** **From: Commander Shepard**
> 
> Tali,
> 
> A little birdie told me that you gave a lecture on geth platforms and tactics at C-Sec, yesterday. That’s a big accomplishment, I hope you're proud of it. I've also heard that you presented the contemporary platform schematics under the nicknames I gave them during our mission. C-Sec agents are going to walk around discussing the manifestation of Ghosts in Taysiri Ward with completely serious faces, and now it's an official term on real public documents. Can you imagine?
> 
> Now we just need to drum up enough evidence of the Reapers to make them as real as Ghosts are now. Not an easy feat with all of the Prothean beacons we've blown up along the way, but we found enough to kill Sovereign in less than three months. We'll streamline the process before the next time. They can't hide forever.
> 
> Keep up the good work, Tali.
> 
> Shepard

* * *

> **Subject: Pickup Time Confirmed  
> ** **From: Kara’Tolis vas Tonbay**
> 
> Tali’Zorah,
> 
> We’re clear to land in two hours, Bay B19. Hope you're getting this.
> 
> Kara’Tolis

* * *

The timestamp on the last email is only from a few minutes ago, it must have been what woke her up. The concept of going home is nebulous and unfamiliar to her barely-waking mind, and she drifts through the apartment in a daze, collecting the knicknacks she purchased from the Markets a few days ago and assembling them on the table so she won't forget them. There's time to get to the docks, and she wants to be alert when she gets there. Tali prepares the water for herself, vaguely watching the news without reading the captions. It's just footage of shuttles moving out. The news cuts to Councilor Anderson speaking, the captions say something about the Reapers. She thinks she can make out the human ambassador scowling behind him, but the quality of the image isn't great.

Tali rests the small of her back over the arm of the couch and lets gravity pull her head and shoulders down, sighing loudly as she maneuvers the water around in her hand. Things are getting better all around her, good news is coming in... and she's just sitting here. She knows she made a difference, but without being there, _seeing_ it firsthand, getting her hands in it... without _still_ being there...

Her omni-tool blinks to life and she sets the water on the ground, pulling her wrist up to read.

> **[Garrus]** : Just got word that traffic control is 50% operational. Civilian vessels are starting to move.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Hear anything yet from your ride?

Of course he'd have heard that, he's C-Sec. Everything feels complicated as she types her message, sighing heavily. It fogs up the inside of her helmet.

> **[Tali]** : I just got her message, I'm getting picked up in less than 2 hours.

He takes a while to respond to this one, but she watches the whole time, waiting for it. Blood rushes to her head, and she feels heavy, _heavy_...

> **[Garrus]** : I see.

His shift had barely started, he wouldn’t be off for at least six hours, maybe longer. Clearing levels of the wards is time-consuming -- less so now that C-Sec knows what they’re looking at, but it’s no walk in the Presidium.

> **[Garrus]** : Take care of yourself.

It was silly to assume he'd be available to see her off.

> **[Tali]** : You too, Garrus.

It's easier this way. A clean break from her Pilgrimage. 

Focus on the future.

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Pickup Time Confirmed**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah nar Rayya**
> 
> Kara'Tolis,
> 
> Got it. I'll be there when you arrive.
> 
> Tali'Zorah

* * *

The docking bay is swarming with people. Tali is used to long shifts standing at work near the Normandy's drive core, so she doesn't take up a seat, merely leaning against a wall. A human C-Sec officer seems to have been assigned to this floor for the sole purpose of keeping folks out of the way of the Keeper that works here, running back and forth to prevent restless children from playing around its legs. The Keeper hasn't exploded yet, so the officer must be doing a good job. Shuttles come and go quickly, but occasionally there's a larger ship that docks, waiting as passengers arrive from the elevator or skycar. None seems to stay longer than a half-hour, so the emergency protocol must be identical for all ships. Nobody seems to disembark.

I guess it would be ill-advised to move here after an attack of this scale.

 _"The PFS Talonara has begun docking procedures,"_ the dock VI chimes, filling the room. _"Please keep clear of the doors."_

"I'm moving back to Horizon with my parents," a human woman proclaims loudly from the line of chairs in the seating area. She has a parcel of soft cloth in her arms, and Tali jumps a little when it starts crying. She's never seen a baby outside of a bubble, before. Certainly not an alien baby. The galaxy is so big. "Station living is _too_ expensive. And finding childcare on the Citadel? Next to impossible."

"I hear the Eraza Academy children's choir was preparing to perform in the Dilinaga Concert Hall before pieces of that geth ship landed on Taysiri Ward," replies another human in a conspiratorial whisper-shout. "Kinetic barriers are supposedly keeping the atmosphere inside that area, but I hear C-Sec can't get to it because of all the systems that went down, between the elevators not working and the geth..."

Things are still so bad, here. Leaving almost feels like fleeing. She taps absently on her omni-tool.

> **[Tali]** : How are things down there, anyway?  
>  **[Garrus]** : Not now.

She takes a deep breath, trying to tune out the fatalistic conversations around her. She takes another look at her emails, but none of them seem particularly conversational, and besides, she isn't sure what to say.

Maybe...

> **[Tali]** : Can you talk?

_"The MSV Abundance has begun docking procedures. Please keep clear of the doors."_

He doesn't respond for a minute or two. Out of the corner of her eye, Tali watches a Kowloon class pull up to the airlock, and the two upset humans rise up, chattering excitedly as they move to board. Their seats fill up practically before they stand.

> **[Kaidan]** : Sure, I've got a minute. What's up?  
>  **[Kaidan]** : Hear you're C-Sec's official geth consultant, now. Hope you're not letting the fame and fortune go to your head.

Tali exhales, slowly. She can practically hear his voice, back in the mess with those uncomfortable metal chairs, talking about life. She'd close her eyes to tune out the docks if she didn't need them to read his messages.

> **[Tali]** : Why does everyone know about that?  
>  **[Tali]** : Besides, consultants get paid.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : Pro bono work? At your age?  
>  **[Kaidan]** : Must be tough times at C-Sec if they can't afford to shell out a few thousand credits for your wisdom.

Tali turns away from the crowd, toward the railing. Through the window, the docks below are visible, but it's not as distracting as the people right in front of her.

> **[Tali]** : If I didn't donate my wisdom, they wouldn't be able to afford it.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : The wisdom you've got? I can believe it.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : Still, it's a nice thing you did. Is this going to be a habit of yours? Swooping in with geth data and saving everyone's lives?

He thinks he's so funny. She makes a poor attempt at trying not to smile.

> **[Tali]** : Maybe. I'm about to do it again on the Neema.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : I'd wish you luck, but you really don't need it.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : We'd still be running around the Citadel begging the Council to listen to us if you hadn't been there.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : Hell, there might not be a Citadel right about now if you hadn't been there. Let alone a Council.  
>  **[Tali]** : Maybe you should save some of that sweet talking for Shepard?  
>  **[Kaidan]** : Hey!

Tali gazes out the viewport. So many vessels coming and going. She can name all of their makes and models -- old ones, patch jobs, great big patchworks of tech. A turian cruiser floats by like a dream sequence. Her omni-tool is blinking again.

> **[Kaidan]** : So, the Neema?  
>  **[Tali]** : The captain is an old family friend. More importantly, he's in charge of the Heavy Fleet.  
>  **[Tali]** : I think I can prepare my people for the Reapers better from the Neema than anywhere else.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : Tali'Zorah nar Neema... it doesn't roll of the tongue as well as nar Rayya.  
>  **[Tali]** : That's because it would be vas Neema. Will be vas Neema.  
>  **[Tali]** : You only use nar for the birth ship.  
>  **[Tali]** : Or birth planet, I guess? Maybe it would be your city? I don't know what our names were like before the exodus.  
>  **[Tali]** : So, you would be Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko vas Normandy nar Earth.

It's a lot of information, so she doesn't begrudge the slow response. From the sounds behind her, it seems like a pair of turian children have gotten into a fight. The frequency of their mother's subvocals make her helmet shake around her head.

> **[Kaidan]** : That sounds a lot more official than "Hey, I'm Kaidan. You know, from the country? With the orchards?"  
>  **[Tali]** : That's so you, though!

The Keeper walks by and brushes its creepy legs against Tali. Her knee jolts upward reflexively and she rubs furiously at her shin to make the unpleasant sensation go away. These things are only the second worst thing about the Citadel. She can't wait to be gone from here, actually.

> **[Kaidan]** : So what's eating you?  
>  **[Tali]** : Going home.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : They're not going to reject you, Tali.  
>  **[Tali]** : I know that. My gift is extremely valuable.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : So?

Tali presses her palms into the railing, lifting herself to sit on it, shoulders pressed against the window to the outside. All of these people, running around, uprooting their lives because of a single disaster... transplanting themselves without a second thought. It's so easy for them to just move away from their problems. When the Reapers come, there won't be anywhere to run to. 

> **[Tali]** : I know I need to be there. The Migrant Fleet needs to know about the Reapers, and we need to decrypt this geth data as soon as possible.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : But...?  
>  **[Tali]** : It's nothing, Kaidan.

She kicks her feet back and forth idly, pressing her heels to the glass when the Keeper walks by again. It doesn't touch her this time, thankfully.

> **[Kaidan]** : Shepard needs me for her shore party, but we're definitely coming back to this later.  
>  **[Tali]** : Oh, you're going on her shore party?  
>  **[Kaidan]** : I can't hear you, I'm in the Mako.

She snorts at that.

> **[Tali]** : Don't get hurt, Kaidan.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : Roger.  
>  **[Kaidan]** : Good luck, Tali. You're gonna do great.

She closes the conversation out, and immediately a new one pops up.

> **[Kara]** : We're arriving now.  
>  **[Tali]** : Coming!

Tali hops off of the rail and heads to the airlock, only for her blood to run cold as a ghost ship sails in.

 _"The Quarian Vessel Honorata has begun docking procedures,"_ the VI says cheerily over local speakers. _"Please keep clear of the doors."_


	12. Triumphant Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali'Zorah nar Rayya presents her gift to Captain Han'Gerrel vas Neema.

Stepping aboard the Honorata is a less than welcoming experience. The external airlock door jams briefly just a moment after it begins to open -- it’s the last thing about it that she remembers before its pilot had been shot on Illium. She remembers pressing her back hard to the frame so she could squeeze by while the unlocking mechanism sorted itself out -- time was so short, then. She has the luxury to wait, now, finally stepping aboard after a long decontamination process.

“Tali’Zorah, welcome. Navigator Kara’Tolis,” the woman steps forward, introducing herself. She’s of the Tonbay, but her accent speaks of a life raised on the Iktomi, all concise speech and clipped consonants. She’s short, even for a quarian, but she sounds close to middle aged. The functional parts of her envirosuit are immaculately cleaned, but the dark, greasy evidence of omni-gel stains the patterned silver fabric on her decorative belts.

“Thank you,” Tali says, dipping her head slightly in deference. “I’m grateful for the passage.”

The pilot has already gotten the boarding clamps off of the vessel, and the Honorata’s drive core sounds like a drowning elcor as they pull away.

The sounds of the ship eventually fade into white noise, and the quiet is deafening. Tali checks her emails. She checks them again. It’s the same little stack of words as before, Kara, Garrus, Liara, Wrex, Shepard, Kara. She paces in the cockpit until she notices the tension in the pilot’s hunched shoulders, then she paces near the doors. She imagines she sees a wisp of cobalt standing in front of the viewport, hands wringing behind his back, staring down at an uninviting Illium skyline.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Kara initiates, turning in her chair to face Tali. Her ankles are crossed and elegantly tucked to the side. “Your aunt was strutting around the Tonbay like a show varren on parade when she saw you in the vids.”

“It will be good to see her again,” Tali admits, fidgeting a little with her hands. Having a voice to focus on is comforting, but dwelling on her arrival isn’t. It’s hardly been a few months. “The Honorata is still having issues with the external airlock door?”

“Haven’t had a chance to repair her, yet. We’ve been collecting salvage since we picked her up on Illium, this will be her first time coming home since then. Sort of a round trip for both of you, isn’t it?”

“Something like that.”

* * *

The Neema is so much bigger than she remembers, the ships in the flotilla more numerous. The Normandy flies solo out of necessity, and the influx of ships around the Citadel had been an anxious swarm when she’d left, so thick they blocked the view of the stars. Her home is another beast entirely, a beautiful procession of structures moving through the galaxy, lending shelter to its hardiest people.

Compared to the chaos of the Citadel, the Migrant Fleet is idyllic. Gigantic liveships drift easily like large-eyed docile cattle, the armed ships guiding them along with a gentle hand through empty space. Tali’s heart fills to the brim, aching.

"This is Kara'Tolis vas Tonbay nar Iktomi, requesting permission to dock with the Neema."

"Permission granted. Welcome back, Honorata. Approach exterior docking cradle 2."

* * *

Boarding the Neema brings to life something inside of Tali; something enormous and wide-eyed that had lain dormant all her life. Her heart soars as her feet make contact with the floor, and one of her suit's subroutines automatically kicks in to dim her visor so she can adjust to the difference in lighting from the Honorata. A small group of Gerrel's marines greet her at the docking cradle, standing at attention on either side of the internal airlock. One walks down the center in a grey combat suit, back straight, but a bit of condescension in his step. He's tall for a quarian, with an inch or two on Tali.

His helmet tips down slightly as he inspects her through his blue-tinted visor, and that's never an accident for a quarian -- he wants her to know that he's sizing her up. Tali falls into a stance she picked up by watching Shepard in high-tension negotiations; hands out of sight behind her back, shoulders locked, spine made of steel. The marine seems to approve, nodding as he introduces himself.

"Des'Prazza vas Neema. We were told to expect you, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. Captain Gerrel is waiting for you with the assembly."

Kara'Tolis remains behind to offload the salvage from the Honorata, and half of the marines split off to assist in the heavy lifting while the other half follow behind Tali. 

The Neema is nothing like the Rayya, and it completely dwarfs the Normandy in stature, but not in elegance. Where the Normandy has sleek, beautiful curves, the Neema is old enough to be far more effective than efficient. She aches to run her fingers over the railings, but dares not touch anything until this ship, this crew, is officially hers. The threat of spoiling it is too great.

The assembly is extensive on such a large warship; a massive crowd of brightly-dressed quarians hover around a raised podium, all heads turned to her as she approaches.

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya!" comes Han'Gerrel's voice, booming from where he stands atop the raised platform. He turns mid-pace to raise his arms up in a greeting, and the marines dissolve into the edges of the assembly from behind her. "From dust we are made, and into the dust we go. Today, a pilgrim returns home to share her wealth and wisdom with us; a comrade in minds, hearts, and arms."

"Just as our fathers and mothers before us, I am a sojourner," she calls back, weak at first, but her voice growing steadier as she approaches the podium. Her voice is so alien to her over the Neema's intercom, patched in without warning mere moments before the ceremony began. The whole ship can hear her, and it steadies her feet. "For all my life, I have slept peacefully, cradled in the hands of the flotilla; I learned from its elders and grew in the safe harbor of its embrace. When I was small, the fleet housed me. When I was sick, it fed me. When I became strong, I vowed to return those debts of love and service tenfold."

Her throat feels tight as she recites the words; they shatter her bones and free the pride trapped inside, steeling her resolve. Captain Gerrel offers her a hand to make the step onto the stage, and she takes it gladly. There's a comfortable confidence in his shoulders as he pulls her up, watching. As she takes her position and turns to face him, she sees Raan toward the front of the crowd, a jeweled pin adorning her shawl for the occasion. Tali's chest swells and she stands tall, shoulders back as she looks to Captain Gerrel.

"I traveled far from home, and farther still from family, from community."

"And where have you gone, pilgrim?" Gerrel asks, with a tone that sounds like he already knows. Tali stands straighter, eyes shut tight as she recites.

"I have traversed the ancient skyways of Feros, the damning peaks of Noveria, the volatile crags of Therum; I have evaded detection in the Terminus Systems and lived long enough to return to the Citadel as a hero. I have braved the long-lost Mu Relay and set foot on the forgotten Prothean world of Ilos; the boots of a quarian civilian disturbed dust untouched for millennia by any Council race."

Most pilgrims settle down in one area and eke out a living with whatever work they can, waiting however long it takes to lay hands on a suitable Pilgrimage gift. To have traveled so before taking on an adult ship name is a feat of years - to have done it in months is bordering on the unbelievable. The assembly blurs into soft whispers and asides.

"And what have you _done_ , pilgrim?" Gerrel asks, sounding more than satisfied with her initial answer. Her cheeks heat up as she speaks. The presentation of her gift leaves no room for humility -- she can only tell the truth, and it does not do to be humble.

"I have righted wrongs and fought on behalf of the Migrant Fleet. I have learned the humility required to live together with those unlike myself, to find family in unfamiliar territory, to recognize mistakes and grow from them. I thwarted the schemes of a Spectre to bring ruination to all organic life. My hands have saved and taken lives in pursuit of this goal. I have freed colonists from an eternity of thralldom and assisted in preventing a batarian asteroid strike. I have represented the quarian people with grace and dignity, that _no_ outsider may call into question my actions, and with _pride_ , that no outsider may call into question my heritage. I have stood in the light of a dozen suns, stepped on the soil of a dozen worlds, and I return today, to the only place I can call home."

"And rumor has it you killed damn near half the geth in the galaxy, too," Gerrel adds, breaking the script for a moment. A hushed laugh ripples through the assembly.

"I promise there are still some left for you, Admiral," she replies with an audible smile, and the rest of the assembly laughs as well.

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," he speaks again, with the command of a captain with years of experience. "Why have you chosen to serve on the Neema?"

"She is a strong ship," Tali says, refusing to let the steel melt out of her spine, even with all eyes boring through her. "A strong _idea_ , with a stronger community. The Neema withstands every blow it takes. The Neema is the shepherd of the Migrant Fleet, seeing everything and everyone we cherish through danger. I want to be _of_ the Neema that I may _be_ the Neema."

" _Keelah se'lai,_ " the assembly chants passionately, off-script. Tali's head is swimming in the sound of it, shaking her down to her marrow.

"Tali'Zorah, present your gift."

Tali falls heavily to one knee as if dragged down by an unstoppable force, her head bowed severely, shawl draping around her shoulders. She holds out her omni-tool, the data prepared for transfer long ago on the journey back to the flotilla. Captain Gerrel reaches out with his hand and curls her fingers into a fist, gripping it tightly with his own as he accesses the data with his other hand. The glow of their interfacing omni-tools illuminates the floor, and she has no need to look up as the assembly reacts to her presentation of the data.

A large screen comes to life over the podium, scanning through the massive amount of encrypted data recovered from the geth cache on Solcrum. On the raised platform, the holographic projector that occasionally bears urgent messages from the Captain comes to life, cycling through her detailed schematics and diagrams on the brand new geth platforms discovered outside of the Perseus Veil. Han'Gerrel is quiet as he takes it all in, and the crowd has all but broken into conversation, teetering on the border of nervous and excited.

Tali feels the same as they sound, though for different reasons.

"Stand," says Captain Gerrel, silencing the crowd.

She stands as obediently as she knelt.

"Today, the Neema proudly welcomes home one of its own," Gerrel claims, raising Tali's hand toward the ceiling with his. "As Captain Han'Gerell vas Neema, Admiral of the Heavy Fleet and protector of the quarian people, it is my honor to formally introduce Tali'Zorah vas Neema!"

" _Keelah se'lai,_ " the assembly chants, with feeling. Tali doesn't turn her head, but she can see Raan clutching her hands together against her chest as she gazes up at the podium.

"May you stand with your crew in times of scarcity and prosperity, through suffering and triumph," Gerrel announces, "for there is no triumph for the man who achieves victory alone while his crew suffers together."

"Keelah se'lai," Tali calls out, tears escaping down her cheeks.

" _Keelah se'lai,_ " the assembly responds, consuming her senses.

"Welcome to the Neema, Tali'Zorah," Gerrel says, lowering and releasing her hand. He gestures back to the walkway. "Welcome home."

The assembly has shuffled closer to the brushed metal path, and as she descends from the podium, she holds her arms out to either side. A hundred fingers brush over her suit as she passes and she shivers the whole time; her body is too full of feeling to process something as rudimentary as touch. The silhouette of a familiar pair waits at the end of the long walk, and Tali practically collapses into them when she finally arrives.

"Auntie Raan," she gasps, struggling for purchase. Raan's jeweled pin digs into her ribs, even through the dense material of her suit. "I made it. I made it home."

"There was no doubt, my beautiful girl," Raan says, rubbing deep circles into Tali's back with her wrists. "You are so brave, you've done us _so_ proud."

She expects the voice of her father from the other figure, but--

"You hold a mirror up to the quarian people and show us the best we have to offer," comes the thick Rayya accent, oozing fondness even in slightly clipped sentences.

"Captain Kar'Danna," Tali says in disbelief, breaking away from Raan to look at him. He's a similar height to her father, but slimmer. His envirosuit is more worn from the environmental factors of running a liveship. A charcoal visor instead of blue. "You came?"

"I'd be a terrible captain if I didn't come to witness you giving our brightest hope for the future over to the Neema," he proclaims, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She's never known the Rayya's captain to be particularly affectionate, but she savors the embrace in lieu of what she had expected. "We may as well have sent you on a fuel run while you were on Pilgrimage, you returned so quickly."

"I worked on a human ship," she finds herself saying. He squeezes her firmly before he lets go and Tali laces her fingers together so her hands don't instinctively grip her upper arms. "With Captain Shepard vas Normandy. She is... impossible to summarize. I couldn't possibly begin to tell you about her right now."

"Then don't," he says, resting his hands on her shoulders. "You are home now. It can wait."

"There will be time," Raan insists, pulling Tali down to press the sides of their helmets together. "You have your whole life ahead of you."

**_You exist because we allow it, and you will end because we demand it._ **

**_"_** _They're harvesting us," she says, realization dawning on her as Sovereign's voice fills the air._

Tali wraps her arms around Raan again, holding her tightly, like she could lose her.

"I don't plan to waste a second of it."

* * *

> **Subject: Congratulations**   
>  **From: Rael'Zorah vas Alarei**
> 
> Tali'Zorah vas Neema,
> 
> I hear that you presented a magnificent gift to Admiral Gerrel, today. I am so proud of you. It pains me to have missed the ceremony, but know that I would not have missed it if not for an occasion of grave misfortune. I can't disclose details, but everything that kept me from the Neema today is back in order, now.
> 
> There is still so much to do. When you were young, I had dreamed that you would present your gift on the homeworld as one of the first to take the title of vas Rannoch, but I should have known you would return triumphant before the year was up. You have worked so hard, and so must I. So must we all, if we are ever to take a step closer to returning to the homeworld.
> 
> Keelah se'lai, Tali. Welcome back.
> 
> Admiral Rael'Zorah

* * *

Prazza shows her to her quarters and the showers, but then just sends an interactive diagram of the Neema to her omni-tool instead of continuing the tour.

"You're smart," he says, raising a hand in farewell, "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

The promise of a real shower is luxurious after months of spacefaring. In-suit cleaning works perfectly well, but after so many patch jobs on her envirosuit, running around near a volcano and kicking up the dust of a dozen worlds, it's hard not to _feel_ grubby. Her omni-tool flashes and she leans against the wall outside the sterile environment, smile fading from her mouth as she reads her father's email. 

_No. This isn't going to ruin my day._

There's an unread instant message, as well. Garrus. It's been a few days since she left the Citadel, it had completely slipped her mind.

> **[Garrus]** Hey. Sorry if we left off on bad terms.

It's only a few minutes old. She quickly taps in a response to see if she can catch him while he's still paying attention.

> **[Tali]** : You've said worse.  
>  **[Tali]** : Bad day at work?  
>  **[Garrus]** : That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.

The response is instant. She settles in against the wall for the long term.

> **[Tali]** : Do you want to talk about it?  
>  **[Garrus]** : No.  
>  **[Garrus]** : I take it you’re safe?  
>  **[Tali]** : Yes. A pilot from my aunt’s crew picked me up in a vessel that was already in the Widow System.

She thinks about mentioning the Neema, that she presented her gift today, that it felt like _more_ than just coming home, but Garrus seems... not quite right. He's always terse over written message, but he's not inviting the topics, this time. Like he's distracted by something. Or trying to be distracted.

It's not the right opportunity to celebrate. Still, there's no reason not to try to brighten his mood a little.

> **[Tali]** : It was touch and go for a while, though!  
>  **[Tali]** : An asari merchant freighter docked in our bay by accident and we had to wait for a full cargo inspection to rule out the threat of terrorism before they could move on.  
>  **[Tali]** : The docks were completely stuffed!  
>  **[Tali]** : And all the freighter even had on it was palladium.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Yeah, we’re seeing a ton of emergency emigration after the attack. Wives, children, commissioning whatever vessels happen to be in the area.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Nothing to be done about it right now, some levels of the wards just aren’t habitable.  
>  **[Tali]** : Oh, and I might have seen a hanar eat a salarian.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Really hope you're kidding about that one. We don't have enough officers to deal with aggravated assault right now with the situation being what it is.  
>  **[Garrus]** : I’m actually on desk duty, today.  
>  **[Tali]** : Uh oh. Did you get in trouble with the executor?  
>  **[Garrus]** : Nah. Chellick told me to sit out extermination duty today.  
>  **[Tali]** : You’re probably going crazy, then.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Just about.  
>  **[Tali]** : You know I’ll listen if you want to talk about it, right?

Tali watches the seconds tick by into minutes on her omni-tool, but there's no response.

> **[Tali]** : That's why you messaged me, isn't it?

Two minutes turns to five, and she eventually closes her omni-tool. If he wants to talk, he'll talk.

* * *

Tali sighs out under the warm water, and it feels different from every exhale she's made in months -- it comes from someplace lower, without the pressure of her suit bearing down on her stomach. Face turned away from the spray, she fills her lungs with clean air, starting in her belly and billowing up, up, until it fills her ribs and her chest feels like it's about to split down the center.

She turns off the water and places a palm under the built-in dispenser in the wall, humming happily at the familiar sound of the sanitary gel being measured and distributed. She lathers up the unscented soap in her hands, running her palms everywhere; water-softened thumbs glide over the sharp line between hips and belly, even as she presses down hard. Pale skin practically gleams under the low light as she draws her fingers over her forearms, stopping every few moments to brush her fingertips over the faded, brown markings she has scattered all over her body.

Shepard had something similar on her face; pale, brown dots that faded into each other, sprinkled across her nose like stars on a galaxy map. They were less noticeable in natural light, but she remembers them there, beautiful and dark in the tender blue glow of the Normandy's drive core. Careful not to get soap in her eyes, Tali presses a thumb to her cheek, sliding it toward a spot just below the center of her forehead, and then mirrors the action to end on the same point on the opposite cheek. The marks on her face fan out delicately over this area, she knows; lines the length of a finger, but slimmer, dark in the middle and pale at the edges, overlapping in spots. She can't remember what exactly they look like, or where exactly they start and end.

Tali lathers up more soap to wash her legs, crouching so she can feel her calves strain against her kneading fingers. Everything feels sensitive after spending the last few months inside a padded envirosuit, and she tests the muscles there, sighing at irregular pressure. Pulling the lather from her ankles and over her thighs, her hand rests over a slight deformation on her waist, and she explores curiously with closed eyes and gentle fingertips. The skin here is even more tender than everywhere else.

Polonium rounds, she remembers. She's lucky to be alive. Alive, and here, on _her_ ship, with _her_ people.

She takes another deep breath, pressing a palm hard to her chest as it fills with air, feeling herself breathe.

Forcing herself to breathe.

_Breathe._

Rinsing off the soap under the spray, Tali once again admires the markings on her forearms, committing to memory that her skin _looks_ like this. It isn't just a heavy black combat mesh with decorative fabrics grafted on. She finds herself wondering if the galaxy map over Shepard's nose sweeps across the expanse of her shoulders, as well. Her fatigues are always rolled up to her elbows, but Tali had never looked at her forearms, always too focused on the bright glow of blue over green eyes. Are her arms strewn with stars, as well?

Tali dries off, retrieves her envirosuit from the sanitation locker, and dresses. Already, the water feels like a distant memory.

It's not going anywhere, though. There's time.


	13. Harsh Realities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali combs Solcrum and develops a working relationship with a marine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a few hours later than usual! I was sick yesterday and ended up going out for my birthday and it took a lot longer than I expected, so I started writing MUCH later than I'm used to. Hope you enjoy!

The cockpit is a glorious thing. An old place, outfitted with newer and newer tech; the orange glow of a sleek, modern piloting interface shines down on the polished metal of a centuries-old dashboard. A small team works here under the captain, glued to their screens as they maintain systems and communicate with the lower decks. It's easy to be lost in awe, watching anomalies come up and be solved in real time. It's like watching the Neema's immune system at work, quarian blood pumping through the strong heart of her control center. In the middle of it all, Captain Gerrel is discussing something with the chief navigator, but they seem to be wrapping up. She waits patiently by the door, out of the way, taking in her surroundings.

Gerrel dismisses the navigator with a clap on the shoulder, and a hearty pat to his back as he returns to his post.

"Captain Han'Gerrel?"

"Tali'Zorah," he acknowledges with a nod, a pleased note in his voice. "How are you finding the Neema?"

"It's amazing, of course. That's not why I'm here, right now. Do you have a minute?"

Gerrel turns his head slightly, as if to survey the state of things. They're fine, Tali had witnessed them being fine while she waited, and the captain of a ship certainly wouldn't cease to pay attention to its vitals for even a moment. He does something on his omni-tool, then nods his head to one side, folding his arms behind his back.

"What's on your mind, Tali?"

"Captain, on my travels... the geth we found, they were worshiping something." Tali pulls up a hologram on her omni-tool, a scan of Sovereign, datamined from the projection they encountered back on Virmire. "They're AI, so that's not completely out of the question. All intelligence has the capacity to look for a higher power to worship. On Feros, we saw some... prostrate, praying to some sort of orb of light. What they've _chosen_ to worship worries me."

Gerrel nods thoughtfully as he studies the hologram, one hand in front of his chest as he rubs his thumb against the joint of one finger.

"I saw this ship in the news vids. Saren's flagship, the one that attacked the Citadel."

"Saren called it Sovereign. It's a Reaper, part of an ancient race of AI starships that was responsible for wiping out the protheans 50,000 years ago. It was... trying to summon the others of its kind, when it attacked the Citadel. To begin a new extinction cycle. The geth believe it is a god."

Gerrel is pacing now, both arms behind his back again.

"That is... a lot to believe, Tali'Zorah."

"I've compiled a document!" Tali pulls it up with shaking fingers, sending it to the captain. It's frantic, almost -- she knows the hell Shepard went through to make the Council believe her. She can't imagine having to watch what happened at the Citadel repeat itself in the Migrant Fleet. "Everything we learned, though it admittedly isn't... much. It wasn't enough for the Council to believe. Sovereign claimed that the Reapers created the mass relays, the Citadel _is_ a mass relay, connected to their forces in dark space... they're so old, Captain. The VI on Ilos told us about them, so even if it lied about how old it _really_ was, the protheans _were_ driven to extinction by the Reapers, and so were possibly countless other races before them. The fact that it was willing to rush the Citadel the way it did implies to me that there _are_ reinforcements, and they have the force to--"

"Tali."

She shuts up, shaking. Gerrel is standing in front of her, still and straight. Reflexively, she corrects her posture, though she grasps her hands together in front of her, fidgeting with her fingers. The hologram of Sovereign still rotates just off of her forearm, menacing in its stillness.

"Like I said, it's a lot to take in. Give me a day to review your document and let me get back to you. You were there, and you're Rael's daughter. Smart, loyal. As your captain, I hope you'll trust me to take it seriously."

A wave of relief washes over Tali and she grasps her hands together tightly, bouncing up slightly on her toes.

"Of course. Thank you, Captain Han'Gerrel."

* * *

> **Subject: University of Serrice**   
>  **From: Liara T'Soni**
> 
> Dear Tali,
> 
> I realize you have not yet replied to my last message, so I hope I am not pestering you with my frequent correspondence. As you know, I did not spend much time socializing before I was accepted as part of the Normandy's crew, and while I believe I have gotten a handle on how frequent is too frequent to speak with someone in person, written communication for the sole purpose of socializing is an entirely different beast. I am out of practice.
> 
> This is not about that, however. The relics we delivered to the Citadel have finally arrived on Thessia, and the University of Serrice would like to credit Commander Shepard for discovering the pieces, and me for donating them. I have discussed this with her, and Shepard thought it only fair that the university's records also credit the engineers responsible for keeping the various devices and probes in the condition they were found, as well as safely recovering the ancient writings without damaging them. They have eagerly agreed to these terms. It was easy to credit Engineer Adams, of course, but Kaidan suggested you might have completed your Pilgrimage by now and that your current legal name may not be the name you went by on the Normandy.
> 
> How would you prefer to be credited? Please respond with appropriate haste.
> 
> Liara T'Soni

* * *

> **Subject: RE: University of Serrice**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Liara,
> 
> How does "Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya, Hero of the Citadel, Friend to Archaeologists and Enemy to Synthetics, Reanimator of the Words of Matriarch Dilinaga, She Before Whom Geth Quake and Reapers Shatter" sound? Too long?
> 
> Tali

* * *

> **Subject: RE: University of Serrice**   
>  **From: Liara T'Soni**
> 
> Dear Tali,
> 
> That is much too long, though I am almost certain you are joking with me. Your achievements are many and you should be proud of them.
> 
> Shall I tell the university to credit you as Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya?
> 
> Liara T'Soni

* * *

> **Subject: RE: University of Serrice**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Liara,
> 
> Just Tali'Zorah vas Neema is perfect! That's how I'll be introducing myself from now on, provided it isn't a formal situation on the flotilla.
> 
> Thank you for communicating with the university on my behalf. It's surreal for my accomplishments to be recognized outside of the Migrant Fleet.
> 
> Tali

* * *

> **Subject: RE: University of Serrice**   
>  **From: Liara T'Soni**
> 
> Dear Tali,
> 
> The information has been sent along. I have been asked to let you know that if you are ever on Thessia, you may peruse the historical archives at the University of Serrice at your leisure as a show of gratitude for your part in preserving the integrity of the donations. I am quite familiar with the Prothean artifacts stored there, and I would be happy to give you a personal tour, once the Reapers are no longer a threat to life as we know it.
> 
> Liara T'Soni

* * *

> **Subject: RE: University of Serrice**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> A historical archive filled with Prothean artifacts and old probes? That sounds like somewhere you would take someone special. You're not asking me on a date, are you, Liara?
> 
> [Attachment: An image of a varren with its head tilted quizzically to one side.]
> 
> Tali

* * *

> **Subject: No Subject**   
>  **From: Kaidan Alenko**
> 
> Hey, Tali. Go easy on Liara, she can't tell you're kidding and I just spent a good twenty minutes reassuring her that she isn't giving off the wrong signals.
> 
> Appreciate it.
> 
> Kaidan

* * *

> **Subject: RE: University of Serrice**   
>  **From: Liara T'Soni**
> 
> To my trusted friend, Tali'Zorah vas Neema,
> 
> I apologize if I seemed to be propositioning you, I meant the offer in a purely platonic manner. I hope this does not sour our friendship.
> 
> Respectfully,
> 
> Liara T'Soni

* * *

> **Subject: RE: University of Serrice**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Liara,
> 
> I was just teasing you! If it's still on the table, I'd love a tour, when all this is over. It might be hard to find time to visit Thessia with my new responsibilities, but I think I'll have earned a week or two of vacation time by the time we stop the Reapers, right?
> 
> Tali

* * *

> **Subject: RE: University of Serrice**   
>  **From: Liara T'Soni**
> 
> Dear Tali,
> 
> A vacation sounds nice, after everything we've been through. I will look forward to a future where it's possible.
> 
> Goddess go with you,
> 
> Liara T'Soni

* * *

The days go by quickly after she joins the crew of the Neema. She fills her time familiarizing herself with the ship's schematics, learning how it ticks; the drive core is a stubborn old thing, but it's reliable. Far louder than the Normandy, and less efficient, too. Suits begin to become familiar -- gray exosuit with a black visor about a foot shorter than her, that's the mess sergeant. A faded green exosuit with a blue visor just around around her height, another engineer. Marines patrol the halls of the Neema with straight backs and military gaits, in charge of policing the ship and keeping the peace when they aren't assisting with heavy lifting or special tasks. Though the color isn't specific to the marines, they mainly dress in armored gray exosuits; better identified by their posture and routine than a flash of color.

Des'Prazza struts around like he's in charge, but quarians are social creatures, and the gossip finds Tali long before she searches it out. 

"He has issues with authority," whispers one technician over a dextro smoothie.

"Long, long family history of marines," says an engineer, snickering. "Never got on with his old man, though, so he doesn't take orders so good."

"He's just kind of a bastard," notes one navigator, as if it's just another little eccentricity of the Neema's patchwork operating system. "I mean literally, and as a figure of speech."

Tali personally hasn't spoken to Prazza since he sent her a ship diagram and let her go, so she has nothing to offer the grapevine but her ear. It does make her a little nervous, however, to see him standing beside Captain Han'Gerrel when he summons her to discuss her report.

"Tali'Zorah," says Captain Gerrel, gesturing to the marine beside him. "You've met Des'Prazza vas Neema, I hope?"

"We're acquainted," she confirms, nodding.

"Good, good. At this time tomorrow, I'll be sending the Concordia to Solcrum to further explore the geth outpost you discovered there. A small group of marines will go with it, including Prazza."

Gerrel doesn't say anything for a few moments, just looking at her. She can't take it.

"Captain, respectfully, you... I was led to believe that we were discussing the information I submitted in my report." She subconsciously wants to shuffle her feet, but suppresses the urge, standing straighter, instead. "Solcrum didn't seem to have anything to do with the Reapers; we were only in the Armstrong Nebula because human civilians had spotted geth in the area and Commander Shepard was tasked with clearing them out. Captain."

"And on Solcrum, all you did was eliminate geth and retrieve that data, correct?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Any alien who detours to wipe out geth is sharp in my book," Gerrel says, nodding, "but that was the only aim of her mission, there. I read that in the report you submitted with your Pilgrimage gift. I can tell that you are very detail oriented, and that report was brief."

Tali flushes with embarrassment, glad for her helmet. Prazza is shifting his weight slightly from foot to foot, unreadable.

"So," the captain continues, "it stands to reason that this outpost may have contained something more. It was more deeply embedded than the others you found; protected. What were they doing there, exactly? Maybe, there's more to it. You said you saw them praying to something -- as a collective, they must _all_ worship these things, even if they're not close in proximity. What if there's information on the Reapers, there?"

Tali curls her fingers hard into fists behind her back, chest expanding quickly as she breathes.

"Captain Han'Gerrel, with your permission, I want to be on the Concordia when it leaves. I can recognize Reaper tech from orbit."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," Captain Gerrel supplies, sounding immensely satisfied. Prazza has stopped fidgeting. "You will be in charge then, Tali'Zorah."

* * *

The sound of a message reverberates in her helmet and Tali curses as she fumbles for her omni-tool, getting caught up in her blankets. The corners of her mouth feel like they're about to crack as her mouth opens wide in a yawn, and she wishes she had the ability to rub at her eyes. Benevolently, her suit's programs decide that she should still be asleep, and they dim her visor accordingly so the light of her omni-tool doesn't blind her while she looks at her messages in bed. The message pings keep coming and coming, and eventually she just kicks the blanket off with frustration, fumbling around in the darkened room for the stupid thing. She slaps it on and mutes it, checking her messaging system.

> **[Garrus]** : Found an asari kid the day you left, little specialty shop in the lower levels, overrun with geth.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Thessian imports. The place is full of exotic fish, chocolates, cryogenically preserved flowers. No rescue for almost a week.  
>  **[Garrus]** : She’s clinging to this turian on the floor. Dead for a day or two, anaphylactic shock. His throat's all swollen and blue.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Kid can’t be more than four or five, her arms are tied around his neck like heavy duty metal twine. Keeps asking why daddy won't wake up, screaming when we try to move him.   
> **[Garrus]** : This guy must have started panicking about starving to death, the autopsy shows he’s full of Thessian eel.  
>  **[Garrus]** : He had sole custody of the kid, apparently the mother had a history of child neglect.   
> **[Garrus]** : Wouldn't matter if she didn't, she was working at Flux when Sovereign fell on it.  
>  **[Garrus]** : A social worker comes in to take the kid away, she starts kicking and screaming all over again. Has to be sedated.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Lang asked for desk duty. Chellick gave it to my whole team.

Tali's eyes unfocus once or twice as she reads, but the contents shock her awake pretty quickly. The thrum of the Neema's temperature control systems are cold comfort as she tries formulate some way to approach this.

> **[Tali]** : Garrus, you can’t blame yourself.  
>  **[Tali]** : If anyone is responsible for that turian’s death, it’s Sovereign.

He doesn't respond for a minute. She lies back in bed, arm wrapped in her blanket, fingers curling and uncurling nervously.

> **[Garrus]** : Wars have casualties.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Despite everything, I’m my father’s son. Good people die. I know that.   
> **[Garrus]** : Guess I just got too comfortable with that supernatural way Shepard keeps innocents alive.

It's a control thing; Tali knows Garrus well enough by now to know that. Nothing he could have done would have saved that turian short of prescient action, and he had even _less_ control over what happened to Flux. When they'd found the dead during their partnered sweeps of the Wards, it hadn't bothered him. Corpses to be counted and taken to the coroner's office: unfortunate, but not something to dwell on. If they stopped to mourn, there was less time for the others. He had to keep moving, find the traces of life and bring them back, take responsibility for that.

And Chellick put him behind a desk.

> **[Tali]** : That's different. She diffuses situations, she's not the one who cleans up when they're over.  
>  **[Tali]** : She stops things from breaking more than they already have. You're picking up the pieces and restoring things to normality.  
>  **[Tali]** : They're different things, you can't judge your accomplishments by measures of Shepard.  
>  **[Garrus]** : C-Sec has never been like this before. It's getting harder to do anything.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Security's tightening around the station, but there aren't enough officers to uphold the new policies.  
>  **[Garrus]** : They're confiscating volus pressure tanks to check for bombs.  
>  **[Garrus]** : It's insane. Nothing gets done.

It's so late. She has to get up early to board the Concordia, and her throat tastes like stomach acid. This conversation is depressing, on top of that. It's hard to think of some way to help.

> **[Tali]** : Stick through it, Garrus. Things have to get better, or Sovereign won.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Sure, you can say that.  
>  **[Garrus]** : You don't have to look at the aftermath.

She turns her omni-tool off and rolls over, closing her eyes and trying to ignore that burning feeling creeping up her throat.

* * *

The Concordia is a beautiful little ship, sleek and rounded with elegant thrusters. She has a few patches of off-color metal where she'd been repaired a few times before, but she has a pleasantly quiet hum to her when Tali steps aboard. Asari design, probably decommissioned and rescued from a scrapyard. Prazza pushes past her with a few of his marines, and the researcher from the Special Projects group quietly takes a seat in navigation. She hasn't spoken to Tali, yet. The navigator is from the Neema, and the pilot is of the Denerim, young and serious. Only a year or two older than Tali.

"If everything's ready," Prazza starts, and Tali can already feel the headache coming on.

"Ela'Breeya, double check our navigation system, please. I want as little drift as possible fresh off of the relay. Sorla'Yelah, I'm sending you our target coordinates."

"Ma'am," the navigator and pilot reply in tandem.

Tali doesn't look back at him, but she can feel Prazza staring through her.

* * *

"These coordinates," Tali offers, adding them in as they approach Solcrum. "Shepard dropped her ground vehicle farther away, but our craft is small. We can land directly over the bunker."

"Yes, ma'am," says Yelah, dropping the Concordia down between the mountains of the moon. Carefully, she lands, and the marines prepare to disembark without her go-ahead. Tali turns her posture Shepard-straight, folding her arms behind her back as she addresses the crew.

"Breeya, Yelah, stay here in case we need to make an emergency get away. We weren't attacked coming down to the surface, but for all we know the geth have retaken this post and we may need to take off at a moment's notice if we have wounded."

"Yes, ma'am," the pair chimes. It's surreal.

"You can just call me Tali," she suggests. The navigator responds by offering a stiff salute.

So that's a no, then.

"Mya, stay here until we give the all clear." The researcher just nods; no ma'am, no salute. It's rude that she still hasn't spoken to her, isn't it? Tali's conflicted on whether to prefer this response to those of the other two.

When Tali approaches the airlock, Prazza seems impatient. That he hasn't remarked on her remarkable lack of speed is progress, at least.

"Prazza, after you."

* * *

Solcrum is as desolate as the Normandy had left it; the Colossus they had killed is still laying in a heap outside the concrete bunker, evidence of the Mako's firepower heavy on its palladium plating. One of the younger marines brushes her fingers over its leg as she passes, off in her own world. What's such old news for Tali is still so fresh for most quarians, and it doesn't hit her as hard as it does when the marine presses the visor of her helmet almost directly into the tank's optical shroud. Prazza touches the scorchmarks, rubbing the residue between his thumb and finger.

"I like how your Captain Shepard deals with geth," he says with a rare note of admiration.

"She's thorough," Tali agrees, moving swiftly to the hatch. "The fact that this Colossus is still dormant means it's unlikely they've been back, or it would have been repaired. It will probably be safe inside, but we should check to make sure before we risk bringing Mya in."

"Go ahead," he says. "I'm right behind you."

Tali doesn't have it in her to nitpick over his giving her a casual order, she just sighs and begins the descent into the bunker. It's quiet, but she draws her pistol anyway, watching her combat sensor for any signs of interference. There's nothing. The marines that trail in behind her in follow her lead wordlessly, assault rifles trained on nothing. Nothing jumps out at her as they enter the main room, and she puts her pistol away when she runs into the first inactive geth lying on the floor.

"Mya, it's safe," Tali says over the communicator. "Come down now."

There's radio silence.

"Concordia? Do you read me?"

 _"Concordia reads you, ma'am,"_ Yelah's voice replies, uncertain. _"Mya is on the way."_

"Good," Tali responds, sourly. "Feel free to relax until we leave, the area is clear of hostiles."

_"Yes, ma'am."_

The marines are itching to start digging into the crates around the place, and Tali just waves a hand dismissively.

"Go ahead, tell me if you find anything strange. I'll be around to look."

They dig in like a pack of ravenous varren.

* * *

"Fascinating," says Mya, "it's fascinating, don't you think?"

"Yes," Tali replies, audibly exhausted. The dark-suited researcher had been silent for the entire journey to Solcrum, and now she won't stop _repeating_ herself. "It's fascinating."

Mya extends the leg of the Ghost platform, marveling again with a tilted head at the way the synthetic muscle stretches. She's had several theories on how they stick to surfaces, each debunked by Tali's battle wisdom. _It can't be localized magnetic fields, Mya, I've seen them stick to solid concrete._

"Are you sure it can't be localized magnetic fields," Mya starts again, holding the geth's foot up to inspect it, and Tali is just about finished with this whole mission.

"Ma'am," says one of the younger marines, approaching her with a repair drone in his hands, "does _this_ one count as something strange--"

"I'm looking for evidence of Reaper devices, not repair devices," Tali says, a little snippier than she'd meant to, and her stomach churns with frustration. There's _nothing_ here; just inactive repair drones, dead geth, weapons, and some raw materials. Prazza found a geth terminal Shepard hadn't tapped behind a crate, but it had been remotely wiped, likely when that _song_ had been broadcast. The verse about lost innocence rings in her head again, and the knot in her belly grows tighter.

She notices the marine she'd just chastised; his shoulders have drooped and his stance has become heavier in the last few seconds. Tali steps forward to place a hand on his shoulder, tilting her head slightly to loan that extra little bit of positivity to her body language for him.

"It's still a good find, marine. Portable, too. If you give it to Mya, I'm sure she can find a way to make it safe to take back to the fleet."

That seems to lift his spirits considerably, and he approaches the researcher as she excitedly pulls her toolkit from her pockets, getting right to work tearing into the drone.

Tali makes her rounds to check on each of the opened crates, but there really isn't anything in here aside from the raw materials used by the repair drones. She wonders why those are here -- geth can repair themselves _and_ each other, manually. They were _made_ for intricate tasks like that, they wouldn't have forgotten how to perform them. For convenience? But why? Were they expecting to be hunted down in this location? If that was the case, there would have been more than one Colossus outside -- Tali has seen how many a dropship can casually deposit onto a planet.

Did they plan to _stay_ here? Colonize? Do geth colonize, now? Were the drones brought along just in case the ground units degraded into nonfunctionality outside of the base and couldn't repair themselves? But why would that matter, when geth can live in immobile hubs without mobile platforms? If they wanted seclusion, wouldn't it have been preferable to put a hub in a nondescript prefab, or inside an old mineshaft somewhere?

_Why were they here?_

"Ma'am," Prazza approaches, saluting. "We've searched everything. There's nothing here except some precious metals and some dead geth."

"You're right," Tali says, and it takes every fiber of her being not to sigh, loudly. She's in charge, she has to act like it. "Gather your men to move the metals, Mya and I will see if there is any salvageable tech here. Take the guns Ton found, I've studied them in the field and they're just guns. Admiral Daro'Xen will want to look at them, maybe she can figure out how to make them moddable."

He seems to approve of her choice, because he salutes and does exactly as she asks. Tali approaches Mya only to find her slinging the entire Hopper platform over her shoulder.

"This one's coming with us," Mya says, excitedly. "There's so much to be learned from how it's built--"

"It's a geth," Tali says, evenly. "It's staying here. We can take parts, but--"

"It's the whole that's interesting," Mya interrupts, her hand traveling along the geth's limp arm. Her fingers clasp with its fingers and she stretches her arm out wide to show off how the artificial sinew of the limb shifts while moving. Tali is just thinking about how this platform could crawl through the Neema for days with no end to it, sniping engineers and crawling into the shadows, everyone afraid to fire for fear of hitting a rickety gauge or an air pressure pipe and destroying the delicate ecosystem of the ship-- the helium 3 catches fire, the Neema's engineering deck explodes, throwing the navigators from their chairs, the Neema collides violently with the Rayya--

"No," Tali says, firmly, lifting the geth off of Mya's back and dropping it to the ground. "You can take a piece."

"Fine," says the researcher, petulant. Her omni-blade comes out and with a surprising amount of force, Mya slices cleanly through the geth's shoulder. When she picks it up, the artificial muscles come apart from inside the shoulder, tendrils of sinew slipping out of the socket like an old, frayed thread. They're only connected by the hand, which maintains its integrity.

" _Fascinating,_ " says Mya, and Tali does sigh, this time.

* * *

Tali checks the cargo twice, then a third time, just to be careful, considering Mya's disregard for safety. The power source had been left inside the repair drone, merely disconnected, and so everything had to be triple checked to make sure there were no other blatant oversights. The guns are fine, the few geth pieces they've recovered are fine -- a few marines had even managed to disassemble the mass accelerator off of the Colossus outside, and that seems to be fine as well. A pair of marines had been chatting quietly over comms since she'd begun her inspections, but she had been too tired to tell them they were still on the line when everyone else had gone off.

"I'm relieved, actually. I wasn't sure I was ready to face live geth."

"You should have listened to Prazza, he _told_ you this was just a run of the mill salvage mission."

The knot in her stomach is calcifying.

* * *

"This is Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya, requesting permission to dock with the Neema."

_"Permission granted. Welcome back, Concordia."_

"We need a quarantine team to meet us. The Concordia made a ground landing and we have unclean cargo to be delivered to the Moreh by Des'Prazza vas Neema and Mya'Valus vas Alarei, under my authority to lead the Concordia's mission as given by Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema."

_"Understood, Tali'Zorah. You're clear for docking cradle 5."_

* * *

Decontamination seems to take a year and a half. Solcrum was empty, and Tali can't _believe_ there was nothing on the Reapers there. Gerrel's reasoning was so sound, and considering the data they'd salvaged _before_ , there should have been more left behind. Perhaps the Alliance got there first? But surely if they had, they would have taken the Colossus to study. That sort of thing is exactly what she would do, if she didn't respect the geth and wanted to give her people a military edge.

She's so lost in thought that when she finally steps out of the airlock, she doesn't see Shala'Raan until the older woman wraps her arms around her.

"Sorry?" Tali asks, dazed. It takes her a few seconds to recognize her assailant and return the gesture. "Auntie Raan? Why are you on the Neema?"

"Something happened, child," Raan says, and they're nearly the same words as when her mother had passed away in her sleep. The same pain and regret take shelter in her voice, now, as she squeezes Tali tight, as if she can shield her from reality. "Something terrible happened."


	14. Sleepwalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali comes to terms with another loss in her life and has a discussion with Captain Han'Gerrel.

_"The SSV Hastings made an unscheduled landing on the Citadel today, flagging down local C-Sec officers to assist with moving a large group of badly injured humans to Huerta Hospital. Witnesses claim that the majority of the wounded did not appear to be soldiers, and many had sustained burns and broken limbs, suggesting that the wounded escaped a failing ship mid-flight--"_

_"The survivors brought in from the Amada System have been identified as crew of the SSV Normandy, a cutting edge Alliance frigate that was co-developed by human and turian engineers as a symbol of cooperation between the two races. It is better-known, however, as the vessel used by the first human Spectre, Commander Shepard, who has not yet been available for comment--"_

_"--the Batarian Hedgemony continues to deny involvement in the destruction of the SSV Normandy, claiming that though its scientists have the means to have tracked down the stealth frigate, they had neither the motive to do so, nor reason to act with aggression toward the first human Spectre--"_

_"This is Emily Wong with FCC News. Some have claimed that a geth dreadnought was responsible for the demise of the SSV Normandy, and many are concerned about the implications of this apparent retaliation. Today we're speaking with the CEO of Synthetic Insights to help our viewers determine whether these rumors hold any merit. Miss Arietta Dantius, you claim that research into artificial intelligence is misunderstood by the majority of Council space, and as such, there are many misconceptions about what AI are capable and incapable of doing. To ease our viewers' minds, please tell us --_ can _artificial intelligence plan revenge, and_ should _we be worried?"_

_"Alliance soldiers are barring entry to Huerta Hospital's intensive care unit, where it's been reported that Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, former pilot of the late SSV Normandy, is in critical condition after sustaining multiple life-threatening injuries, including -- according to an inside source -- thirteen separate fractures on just his left ulna. Still no word on Commander Shepard, the woman who recently foiled the plot of disgraced former Spectre, Saren Arterius, to seize the Citadel in a terrorist attack three months ago--"_

_"Shepard was a hero,"_ says Councilor Anderson, unflinching as he speaks at the podium, harsh lights shining down on him. Wreaths made from alien plant matter are held aloft on tripods behind him, encircling large photos of Shepard. _"She was a brilliant tactician, a woman of the people, and a personal friend to me. Seven years ago, she did the impossible on Elysium, bringing down waves of slavers, raiders, and pirates almost single-handed. The sweat and blood she spilled on that day saved millions of human lives. Despite everything she'd done for Elysium, she was taken aback when she was honored with the Star of Terra. Told me later she didn't understand why, she was 'just doing her job'. Liberating colonies from geth occupation, halting two major terrorist attacks in just the last five months alone -- Shepard was an unstoppable, immovable force of nature. Two months ago, she saved millions more, here on the Citadel, just doing her job. Today, it is my honor to celebrate the life of a woman who did the hard things without hesitation, but it is also my burden to acknowledge a monumental loss, not just for humanity, but for the entire galactic community--"_

"Auntie Raan," Tali says, hoarse. Lightheaded. "Please, turn it off. I don't want to watch these anymore."

Shala lowers her omni-tool.

"I'm so sorry, Tali."

* * *

> **Subject: Condolences**  
>  **From: Rael'Zorah vas Alarei**
> 
> Tali,
> 
> I heard the fate of the woman you worked with on your Pilgrimage. I can't imagine what you must be feeling, right now. I can't be removed from my research at the moment, but I will be available for a vid call later this week.
> 
> You are so strong, Tali'Zorah. You will survive this.
> 
> Dad

* * *

Weeks of work drag out ahead of her and Tali goes through the motions, completing the work that's needed efficiently enough. The head engineer says to check emissions, she checks emissions. She's on sanitation duty? She performs sanitation duty. Life is just a series of tasks, little electrical parts that link together in a neverending chain, each one resulting in another and another. Each time she steps forward she feels like she's falling into nothing, and a small piece of terrain raises up to meet her feet. Directionless. Her peripheral vision is shot.

When her father calls, she can't focus on his projection. He morphs into an obscure, orange haze, and she answers his questions and concerns with simple hums of agreement, drained of any life. After exactly thirty minutes, he has to return to work. Their conversation will go down as a footnote in his busy life, but not even a blip on her radar.

She finds herself checking human message boards just to keep up to date on news about the Normandy. The crew listed as killed in action is put up. She recognizes the names and feels a deep sense of shame when she can't put faces to many of them. Does she deserve to be this upset when she can't remember what Addison Chase looked like? She remembers she had dark skin and a daughter on Benning, but what color were her eyes? What did her laugh sound like?

Engineer Adams isn't on this list, and she feels selfish for being grateful when so many others are. Navigator Pressly didn't make it.

And as for Commander Shepard...

Tali closes the message board out and spends the rest of her sleep cycle laying on her side, staring at the wall.

* * *

_"Khalisah bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News,"_ the reporter recites, pacing briskly to keep up with the wheelchair she's chasing. Her camera drone is a few feet ahead, recording Joker where he sits, heavily sedated with an IV drip in hot pursuit. Dr. Chakwas has a grim line sculpted into her mouth as she escorts the chair, shoulders set with an uncharacteristic stiffness as she toes the line between a swift escape and a safe speed to transport the injured pilot. _"Rumor has it that when your escape pod was recovered, you had it all to yourself. Mr. Moreau, is it true that you left Commander Shepard to die so that you could escape the Normandy?"_

The perspective of the camera drone suddenly hits the ground and a crack forms across the vid, and after a moment, the reporter follows, slammed mercilessly to the floor with a biotic field. _"Lieutenant, you need to stop,"_ comes Chakwas' off-screen voice, the loudest Tali has ever heard her. A pair of Alliance boots step in front of the drone before the vid goes blue, and then black.

* * *

Captain Gerrel claps a hand on her shoulder, bringing his head in close to hers.

"Tali'Zorah, I'm going to need you to wake up. We still need you down here."

Tali wakes up.

Not all at once. Food gradually begins to taste like something. Engineering becomes engaging, the cycle of gossip becomes interesting. Life returns to a state where she can interact with it -- she stays up late to read about the sweeping shift to weaponry with heat sinks, and when she sends in a request to Admiral Xen for information on the geth weapons her team brought back from Solcrum, a shuttle arrives on the Neema within the hour with a sample of their work. A courier from the Moreh hand-delivers a modified geth plasma shotgun on Xen's behalf; this one uses thermal clips, and its construction has been altered enough to allow a little customization. Kneeling on the floor, Tali retires her Solokov, laying it to rest beneath her bedframe.

She can't keep living in the past.

The next time she faces Captain Gerrel, it's on her terms. When he makes his rounds past her on an isolated part of the bridge, she strikes.

"Captain, I need to talk to you about Solcrum."

"Of course, Tali. It's good to see you feeling better."

He doesn't stop to talk to her, continuing to move forward. Frowning, she has no choice but to follow.

"Did you just send me to Solcrum because you thought it would be an easy salvage run?"

He folds his arms behind his back. For a moment, that's as good as admitting guilt.

"I sent _Prazza_ to Solcrum because it would be an easy salvage run. I included _you_ , Tali, because I thought you might be able to find something more valuable than palladium. The Concordia was making the journey either way, but I wouldn't have wasted your time on the trip if you hadn't agreed that there was a possibility of finding more concrete evidence of the Reapers. It was a long shot, but one we had to take."

Gerrel turns around in an instant and his hand alights on her shoulder; the last traces of misdirected anger drain away from her, just leaving her tired. 

"You needed time to recover after you heard the news about your former captain. If you think you're ready to get back into it, I can get you the Concordia for another mission. Any planet you choose, wherever you think you'll find the information you're looking for. But I _have_ to ask you to keep in mind the immediate needs of our people. To make these trips worth it to the rest of the Migrant Fleet, you'll need to come back with enough salvage to justify the expenditure of resources. The promise of salvage is what made your trip to Solcrum possible."

Tali leans forward and presses her visor to Gerrel's shoulder. He doesn't push her away; he doesn't move at all.

"I'm so stupid."

"You're not. We'd have discussed this weeks ago, if current events had been less..." Gerrel gestures vaguely with his hand. "Well, let's say overwhelming."

"I want to go to Trebin, then," Tali decides, standing up straight. She doesn't have the conviction for the full Shepard, but it's a damn good knock-off. "We went there before we really understood what Reapers were, but looking back, I'm _sure_ there was Reaper tech there, and the humans we found there had been transformed into husks. It's outside of geth space, but a research team went missing and Shepard was the first person to investigate. There should still be valuable equipment and materials abandoned there, maybe some rations that we could barter off to a human colony. There were mercs there on my last visit, so I'll need a small group of marines, but the tech I expect to find is _dangerous,_ so I need them to be able to follow orders. I'd like a list of potential candidates for tech researchers to take the spot of Mya'Valus vas Alarei on my team, she was... not as thorough with her deactivation of dangerous tech as I need. And I would like to interview them personally via vid call."

" _There_ you are," Captain Gerrel says, shaking her proudly by the shoulder. " _There's_ the Tali'Zorah vas Neema I recruited."

* * *

Admiral Daro'Xen is frighteningly eager to temporarily part with a large number of her researchers for the chance to study unfamiliar technology, but Tali interviews six of them in a row and finds them all unsettling, to say the least. Tali had assumed Mya was an outlier, but her lack of people skills and generally... _creepy_ disposition actually seem to be the standard among these interviews. Tali finds herself wondering if the admiral is trying to get rid of these people because they're like this, or if their general personalities are actually representative of the Special Projects vessels.

It feels dishonest to gently ignore names on the list that hail from Xen's fleet, but Tali has a much easier time with her interviews after doing so. Eventually, she settles on a researcher by the name of Sula'Vael vas Nalotir; a soft-spoken and patient middle-aged civilian engineer. She seems to know her way around tech -- no more skilled than the other applicants, but her service on a respected mining vessel makes her doubly valuable for the purpose of appraising whatever equipment they might uncover in the excavation site on Trebin. 

Captain Laspar responds almost immediately to approve her request, and it's relieving to hire Sula'Vael on officially and fill the opening.

Tali lets Han'Gerrel handle the marines, trusting him to respect her request, and at the end of the week, she goes to meet her ship. Five marines stand on either side of the airlock and as she nears, the one in red approaches, coming to a full stop a few feet ahead of her and snapping off a clean salute when she meets him there. 

"Squad Leader Kal'Reegar. I've been assigned to protect the Concordia and its crew on our mission to Trebin."

"Tali'Zorah," she replies, somewhat in wonderment. She's seen him around the Neema, but never would have guessed he was of the Reegar family. A small family, as all quarian families are, but well-respected. The local gossip she'd heard had failed to mention him. It makes sense that a Reegar would pick the Neema, though -- as Admiral of the Heavy Fleet, Han'Gerrel is effectively responsible for the marine corps, as well.

"I know who you are, ma'am," Kal replies, stepping to the side. "The rest of the crew is here, we leave on your orders."

Decontamination feels longer with six silent quarians, and before long, Tali is aboard the Concordia again. Ela'Breeya is back in the navigator's seat, and Sorla'Yelah helms the ship once more. Sula'Vael is waiting to greet her when she steps aboard, offering an arm as soon as all bodies have boarded.

"It's an honor to work with you, Tali'Zorah vas Neema," Sula says as Tali shakes her hand. "My daughter was so excited to hear that you chose me as a specialist for your mission. She was so inspired by you in the vids, she's already decided that she wants to go to the Citadel on her Pilgrimage to help with the reconstruction efforts."

Tali isn't sure what to say to that, she just rests her other hand over Sula's and gives her a tight squeeze.

"That's wonderful," she manages. "They can use all the help they can get."

Without Prazza and Mya, the Concordia feels like a completely different ship. It's quieter, no murmuring; these marines don't even shift their weight. She puts the steel in her spine and stands straight, and the eyes on her don't feel like laser sights this time.

"Navigator Breeya, have you double-checked our systems?"

"Yes ma'am, before you arrived. Everything's functional, nav systems are up to date and online."

"Good work. Sorla'Yelah, anything I should know?"

"We just topped off and we're ready to go at any time, ma'am."

"Good. Set a course for Trebin in the Antaeus system, I'll be able to determine the landing zone when we get there."

"Yes, ma'am."

Tali raises a hand and gestures at the rest of the crew as Sorla skillfully navigates them out of the flotilla, a sea of gorgeous mismatched ships resting sailing by the windows.

"I'll brief you now, but you don't have to stand like that. My back hurts looking at you."

The marines seem to relax, but keep their attention on Tali. Kal doesn't seem to get the memo, continuing to stand at attention.

"The primary purpose of this mission is--" She pauses, then straightens up a bit. She doubts it was noticeable. "--to collect salvage from an abandoned excavation site on Trebin. Inside of the site, there are dozens of crates, and I am sure whatever we find inside them will be of value, whether it's rations, mining equipment, or spare parts. The... secondary purpose of this mission is to obtain information."

Tali crosses her arms behind her back, pacing slowly in front of the marines. Her voice is holding steady, but she privately curses her indecision and pauses.

"On my Pilgrimage with Commander Shepard, we came across a post where a survey team from ExoGeni had gone dark while digging up some kind of ancient relic or technology." She hesitates again; she feels like she _has_ to say something about the Reapers, but beginning from the top and explaining _everything_ might just complicate things. This is a good team of hardworking quarians, and she wants them to respect her. "The missing survey team had been... _changed_ into something else, modified drastically in some way by the relic. I have reason to believe that whatever was unearthed at that site has similar properties to Saren's flagship, the one that attacked the Citadel. You," she says, gesturing at the marines, "were handpicked by Captain Han'Gerrel because you can follow orders. I find it unlikely that we will face hostiles at the landing zone, but the technology at this location _is_ deadly, and it most likely _will_ kill you, if you disobey my orders and touch it carelessly.

"I am not saying this to scare you," she continues, turning to face the marines and folding her fingers together behind her back. "I _know_ it sounds crazy, but this tech may _will_ you to touch it. If you feel compelled to touch it, you must say something _immediately_. If you see one of your fellow marines, or Sula'Vael, approaching something that is decidedly unknown technology and _not_ a crate, I want you to restrain them, alert the squad, and return them to the Concordia _immediately_. Do I make myself clear?"

No argument, no sidechat, no condescending tilts of the head.

"Yes, ma'am," the marines chorus, hardly any variation between their tone. Tali nods at them, approvingly.

"Very well. You are dismissed until further notice."

They linger a few seconds to watch her before taking it to heart. One marine secludes himself near the bridge to read something on his omni-tool, while the other three gather together and argue over what card game they should play first. Sula'Vael stays in her seat near navigation, but she seems more nervous after briefing. Tali approaches and rests a hand on her shoulder.

"You'll be safe," she says, gently, and Sula stills under her touch. "I've seen this sort of tech dozens of times before and I'm still fine. I won't let anything happen to you."

The older woman sighs, loud enough to be picked up by her mic; a mixture of anxiety and relief. She's not as tense, anymore, at least. "Thank you, Tali'Zorah. I know you won't."

* * *

Kal'Reegar posts himself by the cargo bay door for almost an hour before Tali goes to check on him. The tone on the ship is much quieter than her last trip; it reminds her of the Normandy -- the quiet drive core, the cards, the air of familiarity. Her heart aches, thinking of that beautiful ship, with her beautiful crew. That galaxy map, that bright spark -- gone, in an instant. She's mourned Shepard enough, but not the ship, and the thought of it digs in a little and makes a home in her sigh.

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?" Kal isn't soft-spoken by any means, but his voice is smooth and clear. Tali gets the impression that he's not one to mince words.

"Permission granted," Tali replies, unafraid to let a little amusement into the words. "What's on your mind, Kal?"

"It was a good briefing," he says, "but I suspect you may have mixed up our primary and secondary objectives, ma'am."

"Maybe," she agrees, quietly. She turns back to look over her tiny, temporary crew, and she already likes them so _much_. They're dutiful, smart, passionate about their work...

_I wonder if Shepard felt this way when she looked at us._

"You're in charge of this mission, so there's no way in hell I'd second guess you," Kal continues, following her gaze. "But I can't help but figure there's probably safer places to get scrap metal."

"There are," Tali agrees again, leaning against the door to the cargo bay, wondering if it's disrespectful to confess her intentions. Was it a white lie, or a truth from another perspective? "My primary objective is the captain's secondary objective. I've been given an opportunity to seek out information that may help me protect the fleet, and if I have to dig through omni-gel for a few days to find it, then I'll happily pay the price."

"Huh," Reegar says, and it's an inoffensive, quizzical sound. Pleased, not curious. "That's a refreshing perspective."

"Thanks. I think."

One of the marines in the card circle looks up, tilting his head to one side for a moment, making a judgement call.

"Tali'Zorah, care to join us for a round of Skyllian-Five?"

The Concordia is a _completely_ different beast than their last voyage together. Tali rubs her hands together animatedly, eagerly approaching the empty seat.

"Sure, but don't go crawling to Captain Han'Gerrel if I make you cry."


	15. Undertow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali's mission to Trebin raises more questions than it answers.

Tali orders the Concordia down between the two prefabs outside of the excavation site. Thick clouds roll overhead, muting the light from Antaeus.

"The area seems to be clear," Tali says after a few moments surveying the dry landscape. The tracks the Mako left are long gone. "If there are hostiles, they may have seen us land, so let's keep an eye open, Concordia."

"Yes, ma'am," comes the chorus of voices over comms.

"Sula'Vael, I'm heading into the excavation site to make sure it's clear. There should be records from the survey team in those prefabs, stay here with Roun'Marrin and get as much information you can off of the computers." The pair wordlessly peel off to the first unit and Tali approaches the entry tube into the excavation site, the rest of Kal's squad on her heels.

"Ma'am, standard protocol is that we go in ahead of you. Safer that way." It's not a demand, and Kal doesn't move to cut her off.

"By all means, Kal, but I'm not waiting out here."

"Understood."

The marines enter the dig site and a moment later, Sula'Vael comes in over the comm system.

"Tali'Zorah, there's nothing here." Tali pauses outside the door to the mineshaft.

"Elaborate, Sula'Vael?"

"There's nothing in this first prefab. An empty wall safe and some furniture -- a desk, a chair, and a bed, but no computer."

"Check the other one, then. We found some cursory information on the operation before we checked the dig site, there was _definitely_ a computer here."

"Understood, Tali."

"Cursory scan of the main chamber is all clear," Kal cuts in after a moment. "It's safe."

"Good to hear, Kal. Sorry I didn't warn you about the bodies, I hope they didn't scare your men," Tali says as she finally enters the access tunnel.

"...bodies, ma'am?"

* * *

Where the supply crates had been scattered inside the cavern before, they now line the walls -- otherwise untouched. Evidence of heavy treads sink into the layer of grainy sand on the floor of the site -- evidently, from whatever had moved all of these crates around. While the dry soil outside allowed tracks to blow away, the protected interior of the dig site protects them; there are footprints, as well -- small, rounded toes, all uniform; though Tali can't tell whether they're asari, human, or batarian. Whoever was here, they weren't geth.

All of the dead are gone, and so is the giant Reaper object that previously took up the center of the room.

Tali leans against the natural wall, taking a deep breath. Of course. Of course, of course.

"Sula'Vael, status update?"

"There's a generator behind the other prefab, but it's not hooked up to anything. It's the same situation as the other one -- it looks like there _used_ to be a research setup here, but there's nothing useful. I can keep looking, but these aren't cushy colony prefabs -- there aren't many places to hide things, and we've checked them all."

"Very well," Tali says, and her eyes begin to hurt, like she hasn't slept in a week. She's tired, but she doesn't let it seep into her voice. "Come to the excavation site then, I need you to help these marines identify the content of these crates. Roun, keep a lookout at the entrance, please. Concordia, status update?"

"Everything's fine up here, Tali," says Ela'Breeya. "It looks like it might rain."

"It won't."

* * *

The marines begin sifting through the contents of the crates, and none of them turn out to be secretly full of husks.

Tali isn't sure how to feel about how all of this. As a quarian, she should be relieved that the Reaper tech is gone -- this is an easy salvage mission, now. Nobody's going to die for scrap metal, and she doesn't have to worry about anyone getting indoctrinated, or sneaking a piece of active Reaper tech back to the flotilla. But as a member of Shepard's team, this feels like just another step into a room with no floor -- another dead end, more hard evidence that had unfortunately been misplaced. Like an imploded Prothean beacon.

_What do I do from here? What's the next step?_

Kal approaches her where she stands next to the large crater in the floor -- the device had been here, a good few feet taller than Tali. The hole in the ground vaguely reflects the space it used to take up; three identical, rounded shapes converging at the top. The process of removing it had made the hole nondescript; some of the edges had crumbled into the space beneath. It's just a pit, now. A vaguely triangular pit. Tali presses her foot against the crumbling edge, watching the brittle mixture of stone and metallic dust fall into the powdery center of the cavity.

If a recording of an asari matriarch acknowledging the Reapers isn't sufficient evidence of their existence, then this certainly isn't.

A hole in a cave doesn't prove anything.

"The last set of treadmarks lead right from the edge of this hole to the outside," Kal remarks. "Moved the crates out of the way, then took whatever was here right out."

"Maybe it was just a hunk of minerals," Tali says, tonelessly. "A platinum deposit."

"Doesn't explain the crates," Kal says, turning his attention back on the marines as they work through them. "Now I'm no genius, but the crates on the other side of the cavern haven't been moved. Why didn't they set their supplies out of the way in the first place? Makes no sense to clutter up the access to the area with heavy materials if you're planning on digging out a mineral deposit, it's a waste of time and resources. If the tread patterns were organized, you could argue they were always out of the way, but they're irregular and cross each other."

"Maybe they placed the crates in front before they dug in that far. Maybe--"

"Damn it, ma'am." Kal sounds perplexed rather than angry, there's no bite in his voice. He's looking at her again, and she can practically visualize his eyes behind the visor. Probably dark, analytical. He doesn't seem like a melancholy person, but she also doubts he smiles, much. "Whatever you were looking for might not be here, but that doesn't mean it never was."

Tali sighs, jerking her head slightly to signal him to follow her.

"Come on, Kal. I'm ready to be disappointed again."

The smaller digs off of the main chamber are similarly disappointing. The generator for the worklight in the first one is dead, so Tali uses a lighting application on her omni-tool, scanning the room with her hand. No treads, but tracks -- she can see parts of her own two-toed footprints closer to the walls, away from the heavily trafficked center, but she can't tell Shepard or Liara's from the rest of the tracks.

"Give me a light, marine," Tali says, deactivating her omni-tool.

Kal keeps Tali illuminated when she crouches down by the far wall, taking some scans of the ground with her omni-tool. Small, rounded depressions in the dust -- each nearly the shape of a fat isosceles triangle, a group of three, each equidistant from a point in the center. Still crouched, Tali turns to Kal, maneuvering her palm and sticking all three straightened fingers at slight angles to mimic a tripod shape. She moves her hand into a suitable position between his light and the wall so that the shadow of her fingers falls directly across where one of the devices used to be, a shadowy reconstruction of the device behind her.

"Survivors from Eden Prime called these dragon's teeth," she says, evenly. "Three legs, a few feet high, supporting a vertical, collapsing needle. It stays retracted, and the geth press a live human onto it." She makes her other hand flat, holding it up just over the first, and then raises it sharply at a slight angle to pantomime the sudden motion of a body being speared. "They'd be completely pierced through, limbs dangling in the air, and they'd be... changed, when they came back down. Unintelligible, aggressive -- some horrible mixture of organic and synthetic. According to Shepard, there were fewer than 15 minutes between Saren touching down on Eden Prime and Shepard facing her first husk."

"I'm starting to comprehend the 'look, don't touch' policy," Kal comments. Tali snorts in response, killing the shadow puppets as she stands up to survey the rest of the room a little more carefully with her light.

"From the marks on the floor, it looks like there were only five in here. There were more in the other room."

Tali takes her time getting up, and doesn't rush on the way to the next room. Kal doesn't hurry her.

"I have an idea of what _kind_ of person would want these things," Kal says, carefully, "but do you have any theories on who actually took them?"

"If I had to guess? Clean up crew from ExoGeni." Tali steps through the hatch, carefully making her way down the incline. "I came across a lot of their failed attempts to create mindless shock troops on my mission with Shepard. Berserk plant creatures..."

She thinks about mentioning the rachni, but thinks better of it. The universe at large doesn't know about that, and there are enough things going on.

"...unethical cloning experiments. And they don't value civilian lives, so this sort of thing seems like something they would be very interested in. But..."

Tali counts the visible imprints from the dragon's teeth; six more here. She makes a note of it on her omni-tool.

"...I also saw their business practices at the Zhu's Hope colony. They repurpose anything they can and do as much as possible to lower costs and increase profits. If they came back here, I'm _sure_ they would have taken the supplies, the prefabs, and their excavation equipment back with them; not just the artifacts and data."

"You think there's a third party."

Tali just shrugs. They return to the main chamber and she touches her fingers to the corrugated metal tubing between here and the door, barely feeling the bumps in the metal through her suit. 

"I don't know, Kal. I'm an engineer, not a detective. Let's just focus on the primary objective."

* * *

Tali meticulously inspects the contents of each crate, approving the contents of each one before moving on to the next. Even if the caverns have seemingly been stripped clean of Reaper technology, she's not willing to take the risk associated with just tossing the crates into storage without checking.

Perhaps being confined to the flotilla is a boon? The Migrant Fleet's mining operations stick to unclaimed asteroids with little opportunity to have Reaper tech embedded inside, while human companies touch down to study planets only a few decades after achieving space flight and a solid _dozen_ of their research facilities and mining operations have been struck with terrible crises.

The Migrant Fleet _must_ be careful. Captains who aren't careful risk their crews, their ships, and their lives. The Special Projects group is highly regulated -- no technology can be brought on that might be unsafe, and every crew member on a lab ship is capable of hitting the kill switch for any experiment done in highly reinforced, isolated areas. The Moreh is practically a mobile Port Hanshan, and each ship in Xen's fleet is one of Noveria's research facilities, with triple the security.

Most aliens are cocky. The ability to return home to life on a well-funded station, or to settle on any world with a safe atmosphere, or decide not to come home from their vacation on Illium because the air is breathable -- it makes them overconfident. They assume that they're the masters of their own lives, they take stupid risks, and then they end up getting killed by insane bugs, or plant creatures, or they turn into husks, or get eaten by a thresher maw. Or their own safety leads them to devalue the lives of others, and they unleash those miseries on their fellow man. Every member of the flotilla is worthwhile, and every quarian respects that. Their livelihoods and genetic diversity _depend_ on respecting that.

"A few of these crates contain environmental research equipment," Sula'Vael says, breaking Tali from her thoughts. "I'm not familiar with it, but it's been virtually unused. We could polish it up, sell it new."

Tali nods, paying real attention to the contents again. 

"ExoGeni hit this planet with a water-ice comet. It's a long-term terraforming experiment -- that's what these people were supposed to be researching. They left a lot of people to die here, though, so personally I think they can stand to part with their equipment."

"This one is full of explosives," says Kal, arms deep in a crate across the room. "Blast mining?"

"Perfect," says Tali, with an unusual enthusiasm, approaching the explosive crate. "Does anyone here know if this is enough to bring this place down?"

* * *

As it turns out, Kal knows a fair amount about explosives.

"I'm no expert," he says, as Tali watches him expertly set charges along the weak points in the rock walls. Once all of the crates are hefted onto the Concordia, Tali does the honors, pressing her thumb down on the detonator a little harder than she maybe _needed_ to. The heavy stone collapses in a deafening rumble, metallic rock and dust breaking apart as they fall down the mountain. She's standing close enough to be in danger, Kal'Reegar close at her side, and the mini landslide of rock and silica-flecked silt comes to a stop just in front of her feet.

It's _immensely_ satisfying.

"Alright," she says, turning on her heel and clapping her hands together soundlessly. "Back to the Concordia, everyone! Who's ready to go home?"

* * *

Tali catches up with her people on the return trip, naturally checking in with each one as time goes by. It comes as easily to her as breathing.

_What's on your mind?_

It's a nice way to fill the time between stars. It's a three-day trip, and Tali finds herself isolating a little by the cargo bay, chair swiveled away from the rest of the crew. The supplies she's bringing back are incredibly valuable, but this is the second of two missions where she's come up completely dry on evidence of the Reapers. What will Captain Gerrel think? Tali is supposed to be _capable,_ but she's been completely wrong each time she's gone out. Not only that, but she had been much more demanding this time with her requests for a more capable crew and personal oversight on specialist choice -- and for what? Mining equipment. Food that the flotilla can't even eat.

She uses the time to review her scans and images, gently tweaking the audio debriefing she had recorded on the first night to eliminate awkward pauses in her speech. There's also a written record of events, and Sula'Vael had documented the cargo as they repacked it on Trebin. It's a very thorough report, not skimping on details about the prior state of the excavation site and its then-current state. She struggles with the closing line.

_We blew it up._

Erased.

_The site was destroyed._

Erased.

_I personally felt that--_

Erased.

_Having recovered all objects of value from the excavation site, I ordered it destroyed--_

Erased.  
  
_As project leader, I made the decision to destroy the excavation site once all valuables were removed in order to ensure that any additional artifacts buried beneath the surface could not be retrieved by future scavengers or alien scientists--_

Backspace a little.

_\--would not be retrievable without significant effort and expense._

Tali continues to press her foot to the wall, pressing back against it as she reviews the documents. Everything has to be perfect to make up for the fact that she came up with nothing but scrap.

"Tali'Zorah," calls Ela'Breeya from her seat in navigation, "I need you up here. We're nearly in range of traffic control."

* * *

"This is Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya, requesting permission to dock with the Neema."

"Slow your approach, Concordia. Verify."

Sorla'Yelah tilts her head up to look at Tali as she slows the ship.

"Into the dark void I brought my spark of light, and I make my way home by the flame of insight."

"Is Kal'Reegar there?"

Now _that's_ even more strange than being forced to verify while returning from a sanctioned mission on the same quarian vessel that they departed on. Kal has rarely been more than three feet away from Tali since the mission began, so he's predictably quick to respond.

"Kal'Reegar vas Neema nar Chayym, responding."

"Verify."

She looks at Kal the same time he looks back at her, and she hates how much more composed he seems, no unusual tension in his shoulders. She moves her fidgeting fingers behind her back, trying to keep her composure.

"To serve the people I left them well behind, but having served them well I turn my eyes back to they who sent me."

"Permission to dock granted. The Concordia and its crew will be locked down indefinitely upon arrival until such a time as certain conditions are met, be prepared to cooperate with the security team."

From the corner of her eye, Tali can see the way Sula'Vael tenses up and she reaches over to touch her, gently squeezing her shoulder.

"Requesting further information before the Concordia submits to lockdown," Tali replies, her voice a little stronger. She has to be unflinching for the rest of these people.

"Request denied, Tali'Zorah."

She curls the fingers that aren't on Sula's shoulder tightly into her fist behind her back, then relaxes her hand.

"Denial acknowledged. Requesting a quarantine team to be present when we dock; the Concordia is not clean and our cargo must be thoroughly sterilized before it can be brought aboard and distributed."

"Request pending. Approach docking cradle 12."

Sorla'Yelah brings them in silently.

"What the hell is going on?" Kal mutters, pacing now.

The docking clamps shake the ship slightly, even with the inertial dampeners, and the sound of the external airlock opening is faint, but audible.

"Everyone stand and line up by the cargo bay doors," Tali says, gesturing there. "Kal, stay up here with me to greet the security team. We haven't done anything wrong," she says, gently brushing Sula's arm as the older woman walks by, "so stay calm and cooperate until we find out what's going on."

"Yes, ma'am," the crew more or less harmonizes, following her instructions. Roun'Marrin takes Sula'Vael's hand and sidesteps slightly closer to her, hiding their joined hands behind his back. It stops her shaking.

* * *

"Fancy meeting you here, Tali'Zorah," comes Des'Prazza's sour voice as he steps aboard. A good twenty quarians file in behind him, immediately beginning a sweep of the ship. "Back from another salvage run?"

"Yes, actually," she says, even-toned. It's not often he enters a conversation with her already angry, he usually works up to it over the course of one or two minutes. "The Concordia has full intent to cooperate, so please, just tell us what you need from us."

"Search the cargo bay," Prazza orders, casually, ignoring her request. "A full scan and manual search."

"Prazza, it's just salvage and mining equipment," Kal interjects, but Prazza just holds a hand up in front of Kal's visor. It's appalling behavior for _any_ member of the Neema, let alone a marine; especially one assigned to lead security detail. Tali is furious.

"Didn't ask, _marine_ ," Prazza says, circling around them both. He gestures vaguely at Tali, as if with disinterest. "Milla, search the girl."

"Prazza," Kal starts, and Tali can see him actually showing signs of stress for the first time, "this is absolutely--"

" _You_ will stop speaking unless spoken to, unless you'd like to be charged with resisting arrest."

" _Are_ we under arrest? Or are you just making idle threats to a superior officer with insubstantial evidence of illegal activity or treason?" Tali can't see Prazza's eyes when she speaks, but he she can _feel_ his glare.

The female marine, Milla, approaches to search Tali's pockets. She holds her hands up to comply with the process only to panic when Milla actually touches her sides.

_The detonator._

_You threw away the detonator, right, Tali'Zorah?_

_You didn't reflexively pocket it?_

_Please tell me you threw it away, they haven't gone through the crates, they might believe there's a bomb--_

"She's clean, Prazza," comes Milla's voice a few moments later. "Should I confiscate her weapons?"

"Please," he replies, so sweetly. Tali thinks it might be the first time he's ever said please in his life.

"The crew is clean," comes a voice from the other end of the ship.

"Very well," says Prazza, gesturing to the scattered seating on the main deck. "Take a seat. Make yourselves comfortable."

* * *

Prazza watches the Concordia's crew for over two hours as his team sifts through the huge number of crates in the cargo bay, making reports every now and then. One of his men suggests recruiting Reegar's squad to help the task move faster, but Prazza refuses, claiming that 'their allegiance hasn't been proven yet'. And then, once the cargo is pronounced safe, Prazza radios for the sanitation team to board.

The Concordia is no small ship, but after harboring only a crew of nine for the past week, it feels crowded with all of the bodies moving around. Prazza disembarks first with a small portion of his force, and once he's gone, Tali gently tugs at the arm of a passing sanitation worker.

"Excuse me," she says sweetly, though she feels anything but, "can you tell me the reason for the lockdown of the Concordia?"

The other quarian sounds mystified when he replies.

"You mean nobody _told_ you? The Migrant Fleet was attacked."

Behind Tali, her crew bursts into anxious chatter.


	16. Nedas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot to adjust to. It's hard to adapt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept writing feeling like this chapter was shorter than my last two, but apparently it's an extra 1000 words so... have fun, I guess! As a disclaimer, I'm having to fudge a lot of concurrent lore between Andromeda and Ascension since I don't have access to the full experience/text of either. Doing a bit of light editing on some earlier chapters, but nothing that you'll have to reread. Thank you for reading this far, I see those bookmarks and comments and I just end up channeling my gratitude into writing because I'm not sure what to say!

It's a full three hours before Tali can get an audience with Han'Gerrel, and Tali spends them all pacing around in the mess, forgoing a meal. She hasn't been back long, but the atmosphere is electric with unease, and the stress has clearly been taking its toll on the crew of the Neema. Even now, sanitation crew members are washing a full-wall spread of fresh graffiti from the mess hall.

**MERED'VAI RANNOCH**

_Forget Rannoch,_ the graffiti demands in large, sloppy handwriting, dripping down the wall in the royal purple hue of quarian blood. It's high enough up that a hovering platform has to be deployed to get at it, and the bystanders are mysteriously silent. In an area with such heavy foot traffic, why had nobody seen? _When_ had it been done? Who disabled the cams and biometric logging protocols? Why would someone add the aerosol contaminants of paint to the environment of the Neema?

Who _saw_ , and didn't stop it?

"So soon after the Idenna," whispers an engineer. "That's treason."

"It would have been treason _before_ the Idenna," whispers another.

"Disabling the systems, or writing the graffiti?" asks a third.

No one has a reply.

When the captain finally summons her, Tali practically sprints to the cockpit, only stopping before the door to catch her breath and collect herself.

Inside, Kal'Reegar stands beside the captain.

"Tali," says Captain Gerrel. "I received your report, but haven't gotten the chance to read it yet. And I read your other report, which is what you're here about."

The exhaustion in his voice makes her rethink the loud and angry approach, and Kal's presence makes her rethink the passive aggressive one. Tali straightens up when she arrives before them, taking a deep breath and making sure to exhale quietly enough for her on-board mic not to pick it up. It takes a few seconds to really think through exactly what she wants to say -- it's not like her mission report, she doesn't get to take back the words.

"Des'Prazza was out of line on the Concordia, today. I understand that there was an attack on the Migrant Fleet while we were gone, but I feel that after verifying the identities of both the project leader and the marine squad leader with traffic control and fully consenting to lockdown, the level of hostility toward my crew was uncalled for."

"I agree," says Captain Gerrel, nodding slightly. "Prazza is facing disciplinary action, and he's been made ineligible to work dock security for the time being. And the Reaper tech?"

"Gone," she says. "The details are all in my report."

"Unfortunate," Gerrel says, not even bothering to hide his sigh. It's unclear where he's looking, but it's not directly at her or Kal. "Is that everything?"

Is that _everything?_

She's livid. Sula'Vael had almost had an episode after Prazza's attitude toward them all. He'd undermined her, and worse, undermined _Kal._ Her fingers twitch behind her back, but she holds her tongue.

"That's everything, Captain," Kal says, instead. "Thank you for the audience."

"Very good," says Gerrel, sounding about 300 years older than he is. "Carry on."

"Project Leader Zorah, let me escort you back to your post," says Kal, shooting her a tilt of the head. "It's the least I can do."

* * *

"He's _ineligible to work dock security?_ That's it?" Tali is practically hissing through her flat teeth as Kal takes her the long way around to the dorms. All around the ship, quarians are moving a little faster, a little more erratically. "That bosh'tet was on a power trip. The Admiralty Board should send him on a _second_ Pilgrimage so he remembers how good he has it here, where we have no _choice_ but to put up with his attitude!"

"I've been listening around since we came back. I told the captain to go easy on him," says Kal, blandly. "Sorry for going behind your back, ma'am."

Tali just _looks_ at him. Silent, judgmental. It doesn't work as well as a tactic as it used to work on Garrus; other quarians are immune.

"Cerberus used Hilo'Jaa vas Idenna's verification code to board. Family friend of Des. They still don't know where Hilo is." There's no hint of condescension or malice in Kal's voice as he speaks, but his words fill Tali with little pinpricks of shame anyway. "His mother was working by the docks when Cerberus boarded. She got shot, but managed to fake her death by covering herself in the blood of the fallen. They found her in time to get her some medical attention."

"That's..." Tali doesn't have words for it. She's not sure she could think that fast in a crisis. " _Keelah._ Is she okay?"

"Last I heard, she was in critical condition. Fever, multiple gunshot wounds, infection. Worse because she purposefully smeared foreign blood around her suit punctures. And on top of all of that, the Cyniad was filled to the brim with bombs. We were lucky enough that they were disarmed in time. I don't like it any more than you do, but I have to let it go. This isn't the time to turn on our own people."

"He... should have trusted a fully quarian crew," Tali says, slowly, "but I agree."

Kal stops walking, and she doesn't notice until he's a few feet behind her. She turns back to him.

"Ma'am... when the Cyniad docked with the Idenna, Cerberus were wearing the stolen suits of its crew. They're still missing, too."

* * *

> **Recent Extranet History**
> 
> SEARCH: Cerberus history  
> SEARCH: Cerberus -myth   
> SEARCH: Cerberus terrorism  
> SEARCH: Cerberus Alliance history  
> SEARCH: Alliance Black Ops  
> SEARCH: Corporal Toombs Cerberus  
> SEARCH: Councilor Anderson Shepard memorial service /ERASED/ Councilor Anderson acceptance speech  
> SEARCH: Commander Shepard Westerlund News interview  
> SEARCH: Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau
> 
> **[Added search parameters: Time > Past Week]**
> 
> SEARCH: Jeff Moreau status  
> SEARCH: Jeff Moreau status -Westerlund News
> 
> **[Removed all search parameters]**
> 
> SEARCH: rain meditation vid
> 
> **[Opened second extranet tab]**
> 
> SEARCH: inspirational calendar app  
> SEARCH: quarian blood alcohol chart

* * *

Tali knows more than she wants to about what Cerberus actually _does_. She saw Kaidan and Ashley's faces when they returned from Binthu, and Shepard hadn't checked in with anyone until the Normandy was two days out from Nepheron. Grooming hordes of insane baby rachni, playing games with dangerous, incomprehensible plant creatures -- filling human marines with thresher maw acid, leading Alliance troops to their deaths with false distress signals. While disgusting, deplorable, these actions at least make sense to Tali, from a far-off perspective. Trying to raise disposable shock troops for an army -- unethical, and evil by default due to terrorism ties, but the intention to keep harm from humans is there. The lack of ethics? It was black ops even before the cell went rogue, that's to be expected. Killing Alliance soldiers? Revenge, spite -- emotional things, sadistic things. They track, even if they have no greater purpose. Even if they're unforgivable, all of these actions, all of these schemes Cerberus takes part in, they all follow a line of twisted yet comprehensible logic.

Why attack the Migrant Fleet? What could the quarians possibly have that they can't get elsewhere?

What's worth slaughtering the crew of the Cyniad and attempting to blow up the flotilla?

How does targeting quarians further human interests? Many settled worlds try to bribe the flotilla to leave their systems faster, but the Migrant Fleet hasn't even _been_ to the Sol system before. If anything, she'd think Cerberus would be in bed with the Earth First movement, sabotaging turians.

The more time she spends trying to get into their heads, the more it hurts her to try to see from their perspective.

On Feros, when the Thorian had commanded the colonists of Zhu's Hope to attack them, Garrus had impatiently told Shepard that they should just kill the colonists to get to the creature.

"Those grenades are a waste of time," he'd said. "They're unarmored, Saren's out there _right now,_ we have six guns between us, and we're playing hide and seek with a _plant_."

"It matters how we get there," Shepard had replied, calmly waiting in cover for the opportunity to throw another gas grenade and advance her position. "It _always_ matters how you get there."

There's no excuse for Cerberus. They have no redeeming qualities, their business is in murder and torture, and they don't care how much suffering they find along the way.

Tali resolves to just hate them. There's nothing to be gained from trying to understand.

* * *

> **Subject: Trebin**   
>  **From: Han'Gerrel vas Neema**
> 
> Tali'Zorah,
> 
> I've read your report on the mission to Trebin and have brought your findings to the rest of the Admiralty Board. Unfortunately, we have unanimously agreed to reject your proposal to send your findings to Councilor Anderson. I'm sure he's a good man, but without a definitive lead on the missing devices, the diplomatic and legal risks of admitting to scavenging from even an abandoned human research site far outweigh the potential good that could come from alerting the Alliance to missing Reaper tech. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but we can't risk the lives of the entire Migrant Fleet over a few misguided human scientists. I don't expect you to like it, but I hope you can understand why things must be this way.
> 
> Your ground team spoke highly of your attention to detail and regard for crew safety as project leader, and Admiral Xen wants you to lead a mission for her. Details are to be disclosed later.
> 
> As for the salvage you retrieved, we've sent a team to barter off the levo rations to a fence near Kahje. The mining and excavation equipment you recovered is top of the line and has been delivered to Captain Ahlis'Laspar vas Nalotir, as you requested. He will be dividing it among the mining ships as needed. Your suggestion to restore and sell the environmental equipment has been rejected, as the Admiralty Board has instead decided to deliver it to Captain Ysin'Mal vas Idenna in order to assist in his new mission to find a habitable world to colonize.
> 
> These are crazy times we live in, Tali'Zorah. Keep your chin up, it's not over yet.
> 
> Keelah se'lai.
> 
> Captain Gerrel

* * *

Politics, politics. Tali grows less tolerant of them by the day.

The Neema may be the head of the Heavy Fleet, but when the Migrant Fleet is at peace, it's just a home. A home that contains a significant amount of marines and heavy artillery, but a home nonetheless. Each year, the Migrant Fleet remains generally undisturbed by outsiders, and everyone knows it's because raiders and pirates fear the Neema's sharp teeth. And each year, quarians ply Captain Han'Gerrel with Pilgrimage gifts for the honor, the prestige, the dream of working on her -- marines to patrol her halls, engineers to keep her breathing, specialists to lovingly man her guns in times of war.

Every quarian thinks extensively about the crew they want to join, and they tend to tailor their gifts specifically to their captain, or what the ship might be in need of. For the Rayya or Chayym, a pilgrim might present schematics for new hydroponic technologies. The Moreh has been known to accept the barest bones of functional spacecraft, leaving them free to convert the space into labs. The right to choose is practically sacred -- questions about plans for the future plague quarians throughout their teenage years, and every day spent sleeping in an unfamiliar spaceport on Pilgrimage ends with dreams of returning home, taking a shower, and eating nutrient paste without worrying if it's been sterilized. Occasionally, quarians make transfers -- perhaps because their skills are better served somewhere else, or to live with a long-term partner, to raise a child. Though it's sad for the crew of a ship to part with a member of the community, there's no stigma attached to it; they're just living with more distant relatives, now.

In the wake of the Cerberus attack on the Idenna, the Migrant Fleet is in flux. The Admiralty Board meets frequently to argue about the future of the flotilla, devoting little time to the sudden influx of transfer requests from panicking quarians. Reasons for transfer are as broad as wanting to move closer to a elderly relative after the panic around the Cyniad, or as political as wanting to join Captain Ysin'Mal vas Idenna's crusade to look for a new homeworld.

It's pointless, in Tali's opinion. She's had it drilled into her head since she left the bubble that the quarian immune system has been so devastated by the flotilla's sterile environment, the only hope of current, living quarians breathing unfiltered air someday is to retake Rannoch. It's the cause her father lives and breathes. The Council has effectively shut the quarians out of any chance of _truly_ finding a safe colony world, and criminalizing their settlement of Ekuna was the final nail in the coffin that says _we couldn't care less about you people_. How many more worlds out there are habitable? How many accessible by mass relay? How many of _those_ haven't been overrun with slavers and thieves?

The geth may have taken their homeworld from them, but their occupation of it has at least kept batarians and mercs from making a move on the Perseus Veil. It's still _there_.

 _Forget Rannoch,_ demands yet another scribbling on the railing beneath her hand.

Rannoch is the _only_ option. It's _always_ been the only option. Tali understands this, so to see so many new crew members coming in and miss so many leaving leaves her confused and upset. There are dozens of quarians in the neighboring sleeping units she's never met before, and some of the marines have gone to crew the Idenna, the Pallu'Kaziel, the Qwib-Qwib. The Nedas movement is getting bold in the wake of the attack and it has everyone on edge -- she'd always thought it was a myth as a child, a bogeyman to scare young quarians into working well with others. Nobody admits to their involvement, there's no evangelical speaker for the sons and daughters of 'Nowhere'. The graffiti just springs up overnight. It must be even worse on the other ships, and it's making _everyone_ tense.

Tali wants to scream with frustration, but everyone's hurting -- transferring and acting out are the _best_ her people can do to feel like they're making themselves safe. They can't just leave the flotilla and go to any old world with oxygen. It's not that simple.

Gossip starts to pick up again as the composition of the crew shuffles around -- it's a good way to bring news from other ships and integrate into a new community. Word is moving faster, more frantically as people try to return to normalcy.

* * *

> **Subject: Checking in.  
>  From: Kaidan Alenko**
> 
> Hey, Tali. Haven't talked in a while. Still processing some stuff. Bet you are too.
> 
> Heard about what happened on the Migrant Fleet. Just wanted to make sure you're doing okay.
> 
> Kaidan

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Checking in.  
>  From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Kaidan,
> 
> Thanks for checking in. Things don't seem to be great anywhere, nowadays. There's been a lot to figure out.
> 
> I hope you're getting the help you need.
> 
> Tali

* * *

> **Subject: Thanks from C-Sec.**   
>  **From: Venari Pallin**
> 
> Tali'Zorah nar Rayya,
> 
> Vakarian gave me this address after you recorded that lecture for the force. Officer casualties dropped immediately after your presentation, and as of today, C-Sec has completely cleared the Citadel of the geth threat. As our efforts shift from killing synthetics to cleaning up the detritus from the wards, we acknowledge the role that your cooperation played in making the station habitable again.
> 
> Thanks, on behalf of the millions of men and women who can start to live here again.
> 
> [E-Signature Transcription: Executor Venari Pallin, Citadel Security]

* * *

> **Subject: Our partnership.**   
>  **From: Daro'Xen vas Moreh**
> 
> Tali'Zorah,
> 
> Our intelligence suggests that geth may have returned to the Armstrong Nebula. If this is true, then it is a tremendous opportunity to learn how the geth have adapted their weaponry to the recent advances in weapon cooling technology. The sample I gave you of our modified geth shotgun is only one step toward understanding how the geth have evolved in our time apart: the next step is examining how they solve the same problem we faced. Comparing the samples you retrieved from Solcrum to the ones I expect you to find in the coming weeks may help us track the contemporary geth thought process.
> 
> You will lead this project because you have shown good leadership, exemplary judgement, and an eye for detail. I am also aware that you prevented Mya'Valus vas Alarei from making overzealous decisions on Solcrum which may have endangered the fleet. I am proud that my fleet attracts passionate and curious minds, but I know well enough that sometimes passion can make a man blind to danger. I will be choosing the researchers that will accompany you on this trip, and I expect you to keep them in line.
> 
> Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh

* * *

Des'Prazza's mother makes a full recovery and he remains on the Neema. His mood recovers, eventually, but he never really regains the old confidence in his step. Things are chilly between him and Tali, but they do each other the courtesy of steering clear and keeping each other's names out of their mouths. It's the greatest gift she can offer him, in a social economy based on public opinion.

Tali leads Xen's project, not that she has a choice. The admiral provides a small ship from the Special Projects fleet, fully crewed by the volunteers from the Moreh. However, she also procures security from the Neema -- Prazza leads the marines, and Tali's not sure whether the admiral thinks she's being generous, or if she's attempting to spite her, knowing full well that Prazza's suspension had only recently been lifted. It's not as if it matters, at least she _knows_ Prazza, and Kal isn't available, anyway. He has his own missions to lead.

The mission is a success. It takes a few weeks, but Xen gets her guns. Prazza does his job. Tali manages.

The cycle repeats. Gerrel sends her on another mission to chase down Reaper technology. It's a bust. Xen sends her after geth. She gets results. Xen sends her on more missions. She gets results. Xen gives her new guns to inspire her. She spends the time between star systems taking them apart and studying them.

The Conclave wants resources, they want to make trades. They ask for salvage, metals, helium-3, element zero -- if you can buy it with a healthy dose of skepticism on Omega, they want it safe and ready to use. They throw specialists at her like combat seals on a suit breach; geologists, chemists, even a _lawyer_ , at one point, ferried along to defend a quarian on Illium from a life sentence on false charges.

Tali realizes that she's taken Keenah'Breizh's place as the reliable, too-careful courier who keeps her people alive -- all she wants to do at the end of the day is return her crew safely to the fleet. Once she notices, she works even harder to make sure it stays that way.

She gives, and gives, and gives. She rarely checks the extranet, too busy serving the flotilla. The last email she got was from Shala'Raan, asking her if she had met any nice young men on the Neema, and _oh, there's a new navigator on the Tonbay and I just know you'd get on like a hanar and water_.

A project goes from a week to a month, and months blend together into a year. The politics of the flotilla stabilize, graffiti stops appearing on the Neema. More projects, more, more -- the Conclave _always_ wants more, the Admiralty Board always has something that needs her attention. Admiral Gerrel stops sending Tali on Reaper missions after enough of them fail to produce results, but she's still sent out to protect salvage teams and to check on reports of geth activity outside the Perseus Veil. Her father sends her on a few -- Shala'Raan and Zaal'Koris never do.

Another year passes. A run in with batarian pirates leaves Tali with a missing shawl and a suit at the limits of patching, so she commissions a new one -- slightly thicker, padded black material for the suit, and a softer purple for the shawl and belts. She even styles it a little by affixing it in place with plain, serviceable brooches, reveling in the opportunity to reinvent herself, just a little. Shala'Raan asks her why she doesn't have a boyfriend yet. She goes on another two missions with Prazza before she even thinks to check her instant messages. Shala'Raan asks if she's thought about having a child.

The members of the Nedas movement all surface at once, officially leaving the fleet on some crazy journey across dark space. Tali isn't there when they leave -- she's taking care of a project for Gerrel. The Neema lost all of its Nedas supporters in the shuffle after the Idenna was hit, but the gossip is as solemn as the grave. Four thousand gone, officially stricken from ship records, waiting on a new ship to carry them to die of disease somewhere far away. How could they believe this is for the best? How could their cynicism have gone unchecked for so long?

_When did they become so different from us?_

_Why don't they understand?_

"I don't like it," Prazza murmurs, minutes out from the Migrant Fleet on a round trip to Tereshkova. More salvage, more trade. Tali won't know what month it is until she checks her omni-tool to file her report on the way home, and it doesn't even bother her. "But the Nedas movement frees up some wiggle room for the rest of us. You heard the projections?"

 _90 years._ That had been the projection two years ago.

90 years until the quarian people can no longer sustain themselves on crumbling ships and mouthfuls of cloned keleven on the edge of a galaxy that wishes they would disappear.

_88 years._

If something isn't done, Tali will still have nearly fifty years to live by the time the Migrant Fleet becomes nothing more than a drifting graveyard.

Tali doesn't like agreeing with Prazza, so she doesn't. 

But he knows. He looks at her and he _knows_.

She knows that he knows.

* * *

 _It's 2185_ , she realizes one day.

It had been months since the date turned over, but she hadn't noticed.

Work is fulfilling, and she loves her temporary crews -- she's even warmed up to Xen's morbid volunteers, learning their names and _exactly_ the sorts of odd little tidbits each of them will try to sneak onto her ship without permission. Mya'Valus has roped her into more than one discussion about the advantages and disadvantages of microsuction, localized magnetic fields, and strong, short-lived adhesives. Tali still isn't sure what makes Ghosts stick to walls, but it seems to be Mya's life dream to find out.

"Nobody transferred from the Moreh _or_ the Alarei after the Cerberus attack," Mya had told her proudly, on one trip. "If you could see Admiral Xen in action, you'd understand. She's a visionary."

Admiral Xen, it's always _Admiral_ Xen. The folks from the lab ships _never_ call her captain.

"What do you do on the Alarei, anyway?" Tali had asked one day. "My father never tells me about his work."

"I can't tell you that, Tali' _Zorah_ ," Mya had replied, with _more_ than a little delighted impishness in her voice. "Classified research for Admiral Zorah! Need! To! Know! Basis!"

Tali has actually gotten to spend a solid week on the Neema, for the first time in a _long_ while. She ambles through the mess, recognizing but not really knowing the people she sees. At this point, she thinks she could list a good half of the Moreh's crew, but hardly any of her own. Most gossip she hears is on the breeze, not directed at her.

She relaxes in the mess, treating herself to something sweet when her omni-tool lights up.

There's always something, isn't there?

* * *

> **Subject: Urgent**   
>  **From: Kar'Danna vas Rayya**
> 
> Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya,
> 
> I have heard of your recent exploits. You bring glory to the Neema, and though you no longer represent the Rayya, your shining track record brings me great personal joy. I've just gotten off a call with your captain to secure your availability, though I know you're stretched thin. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important. An old friend contacted me today, Lu'Jann vas Chayym. She's a therapist with a specialization in child psychology and nervous disorders. One of her old patients sent her an incomprehensible message, raving about danger and seeing bugs.
> 
> His name is Veetor'Nara nar Pallu'Kaziel and he is currently on Pilgrimage on a human colony in the Terminus Systems called Freedom's Progress. Lu'Jann tells me that while Veetor had a strong imagination growing up, he has never had a history of delusions - he just does badly in crowds and is prone to bouts of anxiety. For this level of degradation in his communication, Dr. Jann believes he must have gotten sick somehow, but since he chose to take his Pilgrimage to a human colony instead of a well-populated, diverse station, we doubt anyone there has the supplies or the know-how to help him.
> 
> We've tried contacting both Veetor and the communications tower at Freedom's Progress, but since we received the message, we haven't heard back. I'm sending the Tiral Azhana for you, it will be there for you in docking cradle 17 when you're ready. Gather a team of marines you trust, keelah knows the Neema isn't lacking for them.
> 
> If we can bring one quarian home alive, it's worth the effort. I know you'll do the Rayya proud.
> 
> Keelah se'lai.
> 
> Captain Kar'Danna

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Urgent**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Captain Kar'Danna,
> 
> I won't let you down.
> 
> Keelah se'lai.
> 
> Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya

* * *

Tali's arm shoots out almost lazily as she finishes both her message and her beverage, grabbing out at the familiar grey arm as it passes her. She stops its wielder in his tracks, and he has the sense to sound only mildly inconvenienced and not angry at being touched.

" _Excuse_ me, Tali'Zorah."

"Pack your things, Prazza. We have somewhere to be."


	17. The Tiral Azhana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali sees an old friend and has a little trouble with insubordination.

The Tiral Azhana is one of two Kowloon-class vessels from the Patrol Fleet; all six of its storage compartments gutted and subdivided into smaller compartments and then retrofitted with isolated clean room facilities for emergency medical procedures. The two chambers on either side of the bridge have been converted into a small, communal sleeping area and food storage. The cockpit is tiny, and it's cut off from the bridge by a door -- it's not a scouting vessel, and the modular construction of it all prevents any extensive redesigns toward the front for fear of jeopardizing the integrity of the ship.

That is to say, it's not like the sort of ship Tali normally commands, and the severity and importance of their mission seems to have her ground team skittish. Unless she worms her way into the cockpit or stays on long-range comms, she's cut off from her usual navigator and pilot, and the rest of her crew has to pace the wide berth between clean rooms or huddle up in the sleeping quarters. It's not meant for excursions far from the fleet.

The medship has a pair of full-time staff that work the facilities even outside of combat situations; one doctor and one clean room technician, just in case. This trip is staffed by Maezel'Chot and Taana'Moress. Tali knows of at least one emergency birth that took place here in the past century, and it always seemed like it must be such a tongue-in-cheek name for its single daughter. To be nar Tiral Azhana, _child of a handful of water_. It would be sweet, if it weren't also the name of dense, leafy vegetable.

Still, at least it's a good Khelish name. Not as prestigious as the Pallu'Kaziel had once been, but...

"You should defer leadership of the mission to me."

_Ah, here we go. I knew it couldn't last._

Prazza hasn't given her trouble since the incident in security -- sure, they've butted heads occasionally, but never for more than a few minutes, and he's always deferred to her, no matter how much he grumbles. Tali thought that after two years, maybe they had finally reached a balance in their working relationship. He's still a decent squad leader: he commands the respect of his men, at least, even if the Neema still gossips like old birds about his disciplinary issues. 

She had only ever taken him on salvage missions, or as security to oversee trades along the Anansi-Ishtar trade route: that sort of thing. The specialty status of this ship, the mission premise -- it's a delicate situation. After years of seeing very little action, performing routine recovery missions, the leap in severity seems to have the marines on edge.

"I won't be doing that, Prazza," she says, turning toward his voice with arms folded behind her back. The way she holds herself now is a dead ringer for Captain Han'Gerrel; she's had plenty of time to learn to emulate him. "But I'm curious why you think I would."

"We know nothing about what we're going to find. We don't know if their comm tower is broken or if the colonists were just ignoring Captain Kar'Danna," Prazza says, arms crossed. He leans into the wall - very unprofessional. The seasoned project leader in her brain is ticking down these little acts of defiance, filing them away for her report later. "If they're keeping Veetor captive, we'll have to break him out. If we have to kill humans, you'll hesitate."

"We're not-- we're not _killing humans,_ " Tali says, voice breaking into an incredulous whisper-shout. Turning her head would show the hesitation he accused her of, but she does glance around to the edges of her field of vision to make sure they're not being watched by the rest of the crew. She sees a flash of Milla's maroon suit out of the corner of her eye, but it vanishes quickly. What Prazza is expecting to find is _insane_ , and he sounds dead serious about it. "What are you _talking_ about? We don't know what we're going to find there. If anything, their comms went down and they'll be glad to see us, I'm sure they don't know how to take care of Veetor and have no way of asking for help for him. They'll be relieved to have us there."

"You're soft, and you don't understand what the real world is like," Prazza accuses her, leaning down and into her space. "You were on your Pilgrimage for fewer than three _months_. Humans babysat you the whole time, and if they're hostile on the colony, you won't be able to handle it. By all accounts you're still a _child_ \--"

"That's _enough_ ," Tali says, sharply. The _shut up_ is unspoken. He tilts his head up at her, a deliberate gesture. _Or what?_ He hasn't raised his voice in this conversation, and unfortunately, that's more than Tali can say. "I've more than proved my worth to the Migrant Fleet. You're out of line, Des'Prazza vas Neema, and let me remind you that between the two of us, only one has seen disciplinary action for their unprofessional behavior."

"That may be true, but _I_ didn't blow up a potential cache of technology over my hurt feelings," he bites back, and her blood runs cold suddenly.

_That mission was classified._

_Who--?_

"Oh," says Prazza, basking in her stunned silence. Then, with all the artificial sweetness of aspartame,"I take it you didn't realize that the Neema talks about you, too?"

"Say you'll obey me," Tali says, shifting her tone and approach from Han's easy authority to the commanding set of Shepard's shoulders, her solid stance. She brings up her omni-tool between them, recording where he can see it. "Acknowledge that I was selected to be the mission leader, that you _understand_ this, and that you will respect my authority for as long as you are on my mission."

He ignores her.

"Daddy didn't authorize _this_ mission, Tali' _Zorah_. Your 'authority' comes from a sentimental old captain who knows you're still a child of _his_ ship, not a _true_ member of the Neema--"

" _Say it,_ or I'll have you detained."

He's unreadable. Silent for ten entire seconds.

"...Tali'Zorah, you are the leader of Captain Kar'Danna vas Rayya's mission to Freedom's Progress. I am in acknowledgement of this fact, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure the mission succeeds."

"Prazza," she warns, taking a step forward.

"I'll follow your orders," he says, and the bitterness is palpable.

"Glad to hear it," Tali says, tonelessly. She ends the recording. "Here, how's this? I have a deal for you. Follow my lead on this mission, let _me_ deal with the humans, and when we return _safely_ back to the Migrant Fleet with Veetor without a diplomatic incident, I'll do everything in my power to make sure we _never_ see each other again. I won't even mention this little chat."

"How big of you," Prazza says, already turning away from her. "I can't wait."

* * *

By the time the Tiral Azhana lands, Freedom's Progress is a ghost town. There's an emptiness to the air that can't be described -- the colony is completely dark. By measures of local time, the planet had only just entered its night cycle. It's almost as quiet as the off-chambers on Trebin, but the human-settled world doesn't even have the decency to have footprints to read, or any other obvious clues to find. Nothing that jumps out immediately.

"Stay alert, but don't let yourselves get trigger-happy," Tali orders over comms, surveying the area with the light on her pistol. "I don't think there's anyone here, but if we shoot the first thing that moves, we won't find any answers."

"Yes, ma'am," Prazza replies, gesturing with a shoulder for his marines to follow him.

"Over there," calls a marine, pointing far across the colony. Under the moonlight, another quarian is just barely visible from across the complex. Before she can stop it, half a dozen lights fall on him at once, and Veetor bolts out of sight, toward a large building in the background. Tali suppresses the urge to waste time lecturing them for scaring him away after she had _told_ them he was likely hallucinating.

"Well, he's not kidnapped," Prazza notes, putting his gun on his back.

"Come on," Tali says, bolting for the nearest prefab. "We need to find a way around."

There's no one in this living unit, and the lights flicker to life as they enter, turning off again when they exit. There's no good way down to the center of the complex without running through a few living quarters, first, and they _all_ light when entered. Thousands of lights are visible from where they are in the complex and not a single one is lit -- it's too early for the entire colony to be asleep. The moons have barely been visible an hour.

"Where did they go?" Milla asks, spooked.

"Maybe they were evacuated," supplies another. "An outbreak? A disease from this planet?"

"Humans don't get sick that easily," Tali replies, pausing to break through a locked door. "Besides, the last I checked, Freedom's Progress had a population of nearly one _million_ humans living on it. You don't grow a population that quickly if you're worried about outbreak."

Prazza makes an unhappy sound from behind her. The door slides open. 

"Come on, let's move," she offers.

The lights flicker to life in here, as well and their next door is locked. She frowns, breaking into it again. These kinds of doors should never be locked from the inside: it's a safety hazard if they don't open during an emergency. People can get trapped inside with a fire, or a gas leak, or an awkward one-night stand.

"I think this is what humans keep their young in," Milla says, uncertainly. Tali spares a glance at what she's touching; an open-air cube with clear sides, filled with a soft, padded material and raised several feet off of the ground on sturdy legs. It's not entirely dissimilar to quarian environmental bubbles, just... a different shape. The little pink blanket inside is bunched up at one end, recently discarded.

"Try to focus," Tali says, breaking through the door. "Keep your eyes open, I think Veetor is remotely locking the units to keep us from coming to him."

"Crazy bosh'tet," Prazza mutters, gesturing to the prefab across the way. "Milla, get the next door."

Tali would snap at him for asserting command, but it's a good tactical decision. The older marine can't seem to rein herself in -- walking around the inside of the living space, touching photographs, staring at books on a shelf. She's distracted, in a bad way. It can't be good for her.

Milla hops to Prazza's command, and the rest of her squad exits the prefab, back under the light of the moons. Tali finds herself wondering what this would feel like if she were human. Is the breeze cool on her skin? Is it humid? What does it smell like after it rains? What color is the sky during the day?

"Got it," Milla reports, and Prazza enters the unit with a few of his men. From ahead of their location, Tali sees movement, a shape flying into cover. A bird of some sort? No, it's--

"Get down!" Prazza bellows over the comm line, and there's an explosion from inside. Tali rushes in, shotgun drawn.

Milla is dragging an injured marine back toward the door while the others take down a FENRIS mech, a second, disabled one already lying in a heap on the floor. The remaining mech has a marine pinned to the floor with its powerful front legs. Tali manages to hack the remaining mech microseconds before that powerful taser goes off, and Prazza kicks it away with his heel just as the light in its optics goes out -- it skitters a few feet before exploding.

"Pieces of _shit_ ," he grits out, returning to his man. A wide swath of a navy blue exosuit has been completely burnt off over his chest, and he's still twitching from the shock of being tazed. "Berat, you idiot, why weren't your _shields_ up--"

"Tiral Azhana," Tali calls, "send Maezel and Taana to our coordinates for medical extraction _now_. We have a major suit breach and need immediate quarantine and sterilization."

"Understood," Ela responds. "Patching them in for you, ma'am."

"Prazza, select an escort for the evac team. We don't know what else might be out here."

"Ifa, Phava," he grits out. "Stay with Berat. The rest of you, we're moving forward."

* * *

Checking the databank on the mech that Prazza _hadn't_ blown up, Tali makes an interesting discovery. Along with human silhouettes, quarians are also considered nonthreats -- a safeguard against the colony's defenses targeting Veetor, most likely. But the friend or foe identification software on the FENRIS mech has been remotely disabled.

"I think Veetor remotely engaged the security systems," Tali tells her team as Milla breaks through another door, her hands shaking. "I saw drones in the distance before the mechs attacked, but they seem to be waiting farther into the complex. If we see him again, keep your lights off of him and don't approach. Let me deescalate the situation."

Prazza sighs impatiently. She's beginning to worry whether he'll even _try_ to bring Veetor in alive, after siccing mechs on them.

"Yes, ma'am," mumbles Milla, but she's the only one who does. The tension is thick in the air. 

"Tali'Zorah," Maezel calls over the comms. "Berat went into cardiac arrest, but he's stable now and the area is sterile. He should be alright until we return to the fleet."

"Great," Tali breathes. "That's great news."

* * *

A few units later and they come to a crossroads -- this prefab contains an open stairwell and another door, and thankfully zero mechs. The first room has a computer terminal and Tali gravitates to it immediately, rifling through local data until she finds a map of the immediate area. Prazza stands directly behind her as she moves, and Milla's fingers are hovering over a cold meal on a coffee table.

"The plates are out," she says, quietly. "But they didn't eat."

The food doesn't even look old. No mold or insects -- it's some sort of cooked bird, and the skin isn't dry. The fat on the serving dish hasn't even fully congealed.

"Focus, Milla," Tali says, calling her back to the general sitting area. Their current location blinks softly, just a gentle white sphere "I found a map, and I think that warehouse he ran to is around here somewhere. We just need to figure out where the Tiral Azhana is and plot our route."

"Here," Prazza points to an open spot on the holographic interface, about twice the size of a prefab. He sets a waypoint. "That's where the ship is."

"The warehouse is here," Tali says, enlarging what looks like a courtyard, the building nestled between two prefabs and behind a big gate. She adds another waypoint. "He'll have closed the gate remotely, I don't know if we'll be able to open it from that side.

"Okay," Prazza begins, "I see two routes, here -- one through the front, and one by breaking in from the other side of this prefab in the courtyard. There's probably a way to open the gate inside..."

He marks each one with his fingertip, leaving a trail. The side entrance is probably safer, but it's a long distance, and...

"If drones are patrolling, we'll be exposed if we go the long way," Tali points out. "We should split into two teams, one to draw fire and the other to get Veetor."

"All due respect," Prazza says with very little in the way of respect, "after Berat, we're down in numbers by three. We've got six left, now."

"Seven," Tali corrects him.

"Seven," he repeats.

"Maybe if we just have one person on the distraction team," Milla says, anxiously looking up at Prazza. "I can use a combat drone to draw attention without getting hurt, if I set up in this area..."

She points at a location on the map, but as Tali turns to look, the other door comes unlocked and a trio of humans storm the prefab, guns drawn.

"Stop right there!" Prazza's assault rifle is in his hand before Tali can blink, and his team follows his lead in an instant, all trained on the humans. Tali leaps to her feet, deftly weaving in between the marines to get between the two groups.

"Prazza, you said you'd let _me_ handle this," she snaps, shoving his gun off target. Tali whirls around to hold a hand up to deter the encroaching humans as well, and the leader of the humans is already lowering her weapon, standing up straight, a shock of red hair, looking at her with those green eyes-- 

"Wait... Shepard?"

She looks at Tali and then back to the other human woman -- pale, a few inches taller than her, white and black bodysuit, brown hair.

White and orange Cerberus logo on her chest.

"I'm not taking any chances with Cerberus operatives," Prazza snaps, moving to aim his rifle again, but Tali stands between them, heart racing while her mind tries to keep up.

"Put those weapons _down_."

She turns back to her, just... staring. There's a nasty fissure along her cheek where a wound hasn't closed yet, and her hair is longer but... the set of her jaw, the way she made herself vulnerable to prove nonaggression--

"Shepard, is that..."

Tali remembers Saren, suddenly, reddened human cheeks as Shepard lowers her gun and looks at him, like together they can fix this, like--

"...you're alive?"

How is this happening? When-- where did she come from? Where had she been? She was dead.

Nobody ever found her body, but the conspiracy theories were so distasteful...

_She's dead. She has to be, this can't be her, because Shepard wouldn't have disappeared for two years, Shepard wouldn't have left without saying goodbye, Shepard wouldn't--_

"Remember when I gave you that geth data, Tali?" --and that's _her_ , that's _her_ voice, Tali still hears it in her sleep, she would never forget it. "Did it help you complete your Pilgrimage?"

"Yes," she says, a little wary of Prazza on her back, eyes on her, gun still drawn. _Humans babysat you--_ "It did. Prazza, weapons _down_ ," she continues, turning to glare him down. "This is _definitely_ Commander Shepard."

"Why is your old commander working for Cerberus?" He puts his gun away, but the question seems rhetorical. There's an accusation in it, somewhere, but it's not directed at Shepard.

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask." It's the least she deserves even if she let everyone think... even if _Tali_ thought...

"I nearly died, Tali." Shepard looks guarded, somewhat -- too tense, after all the weapons have been put away. The commander she knows doesn't look like this after she gets the all clear. "Cerberus spent two years rebuilding me. In return, they asked me to investigate these attacks on human colonies."

_That's right. Not even death can stop Shepard from running to an imperiled human colony._

"A likely story," Prazza spits, leaning back in defiance. He crosses his arms, and Tali can see him digging his fingers into his arms, relaxing them and then digging them back in. A rare display of restraint. "No organization would commit so many resources just to bring back one soldier."

"You haven't seen Shepard in action, Prazza," Tali retorts, and she can't help the bit of pride in her voice. There's a lot going on in her head, in her chest -- she's _owed_ a little sentimentality. Two years of backlog. "Trust me. It was money well spent."

A deep breath. She turns back to Shepard, taking her in. She had forgotten how _small_ she was, her shadow always loomed so large.

"Perhaps we can work together. We're here looking for a young quarian named Veetor."


	18. Freedom's Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali boards the Tiral Azhana with a net loss of living quarians.

"Isn't that a little strange? A quarian visiting a remote human colony?"

Tali touches her hand to Prazza's arm, she can feel him tensing at the question. He hears an accusation, but this is just... Shepard. Shepard and her questions. Shepard and long, long discussions about the Migrant Fleet, letting Tali drone on and on. If it weren't for the tense atmosphere and Veetor's deteriorating health...

"Quarians can choose where they go on Pilgrimage. Veetor liked the idea of helping a small settlement, he was always... nervous, in crowds."

"She _means_ that he was unstable," Prazza cuts in. "Combine that with damage to his suit's CO2 scrubbers and an infection from an open-air exposure, and he's likely delirious."

Irritating, that he has to undermine her in front of Shepard. Tali turns back to Shepard, trying not to let it get to her.

"When he saw us landing, he hid in a warehouse on the far side of town. We suspect he also programmed the mechs to attack anything that moved."

"Veetor's the only one who can tell us what happened here," Shepard summarizes, arms crossed, and there's almost something that looks like a smile on her mouth. "We should work together to find him."

"Good idea," Tali agrees. _This works out perfectly._ "You'll need two teams to get past the drones, anyway."

"Now we're working with _Cerberus?_ " That accusation in Prazza's voice is even louder this time, still not directed at Shepard.

"No, Prazza, you're working for me," Tali retorts, glaring at him. "If you can't follow orders, go wait on the ship."

She turns back to Shepard. Every time she turns her head back and she's still _there_ , it amazes her.

"Head for the warehouse through the center of the colony. We'll circle around the far side and draw off some of the drones to clear you a path." Prazza stiffens behind her, and she can feel the other marines growing restless as well. The Cerberus operatives on Shepard's squad look uneasy, too, but the woman seems to hide it slightly better. Her icy blue eyes linger on Tali.

"Make sure to keep in radio contact," Shepard says.

"Will do. Good luck, Shepard. Whatever happens... it's good to have you back."

* * *

"Why are _we_ the diversion team?"

"This setup plays to our strengths; our squad has the firepower to deal with the mechs we find, and with a small team, if they're careful, Shepard might be able to take control of the security systems from Veetor."

She offers a hand down to him to help him up onto the ledge. When he takes it, the strength of his grip almost pulls her finger out of its socket.

"We're putting _our_ lives at risk so that _Cerberus_ can get to a sick quarian? They _killed_ our men, infiltrated the flotilla--"

She pulls him up, and she isn't gentle about it, using her full weight to throw him off.

" _No_ , Prazza, we're putting our lives at risk so the _Commander Shepard_ can get _us_ to a sick quarian."

Rather than easily being pulled to his feet, her weight influences Prazza to fall forward, landing hard on his knees. He looks up at her, and she takes the moment to stare him down. As he gets to his feet, a trio of rocket drones zips by in the distance, toward the center of town.

"Be careful Shepard," Tali says on the cross comms. "There's a squad of security drones up ahead."

" _Thanks for the warning,_ " comes the unfamiliar, masculine voice. Military. The one in the black bodysuit. " _We'll take care of them._ "

"Is she even in charge?" Prazza asks, snide as ever. They catch up with the marines, pressed up against the external wall of a prefab. "It doesn't sound like it."

"Nobody would spend that much time and effort reviving Shepard just to make her follow someone else's lead. The way she holds a gun isn't what makes her great."

"What _made_ her great," says Prazza. She can't help but feel that the accusatory tone of his voice isn't aimed at Shepard. "Now she's Cerberus."

Ignoring him, Tali opens the door.

The prefab is full of LOKI mechs, but they're easily dispatched from cover -- all the mechs here are Hahne-Kedar and simple to hack: it's as easy as walking, especially to someone with so much practice overriding the much more complex IFF protocols of geth platforms. Milla gets to work unlocking the door on the opposite side of the prefab.

"Let's wait for confirmation that Shepard's team is advancing before we move forward," Tali says on local comms, distracted. Her gaze follows the layout of the room -- the sleeping quarters contains two beds, and behind them, little shelves set into the walls, full of unique knickknacks. A holo of a young human girl wrapping her arms around a large, furred creature is illuminating one shelf. A pet of some sort, probably.

On the far end of the unit, she hears the door open. When she turns to look, it closes again. Her squad is gone.

The lock's holo interface blinks from green to orange. 

She races to the lock and begins the process to open it, gritting her teeth.

"Prazza, what do you think you're doing?"

"Finding the kid," he responds, coldly. "Maybe your buddies at Cerberus will give you a ride home."

The door opens, but there's another one locked in her path. Across the way, Tali can see Prazza's squad hoofing it toward the access point outside the warehouse as a set of rocket drones pull around from the loading docks. Leaning over the guard rail, Tali summons her combat drone in the middle of Prazza's squad -- it shocks a hostile drone as it fires, but she can't _do_ anything else from here. She digs her fingers into the locking mechanism of the door in front of her, switching to cross comms.

"Shepard! Prazza and his squad rushed on ahead. I told them to wait, but they wouldn't listen!" Once she gets through one door, there's another one straight ahead, locked again. She rushes for it, heart racing. She can hear the gunshots outside, and then they subside. "They want to find Veetor and take him away before you get here!"

There's no response from the comms. Tali tears through the door and follows the navpoint on her omni-tool, running as fast as she can. Piles of mechanical debris, here: drones, no bodies. She follows the path, breaking into one unit and then the next, and when she raises her omni-tool to the next door, her hacking program instantly unlocks it. It's the same override as the last door -- sloppy.

"Tali'Zorah," Milla gasps out, training her pistol on her. Her back is pressed to the wall, but Tali can see the trail of blood on the ground in the light of the prefab. Milla's alone, the door behind her locked. Prazza left her behind. "Don't, don't come any closer. Just let them go."

"They're going to get themselves killed, Milla. Do you want that?" The marine is trembling, but Tali doesn't reach for her gun. She raises her hands to show that they're empty as she takes a step forward. Milla attempts to steady her aim, a warning.

"If we wait and Cerberus gets there at the same time as us, they'll just kill us," she says. She only managed to patch half her suit before Tali interrupted; her leg is still bleeding. "They'll kill us, and they'll-- they'll use Veetor's illness, and torture him to get his pass phrase like they did to my father, th-- they'll--"

"Milla'Jaa nar Idenna," Tali says, making her tone firm, but patient. Time is precious, but she _can't_ kill someone just to get past them. Just because they're scared. "I will never, _ever_ let that happen. Shepard won't let that happen." Milla's aim drops a little, but she doesn't holster the weapon. She's conflicted. "Milla, you can die here of an infection, or you can let me help you. If Cerberus _does_ try to take Veetor, we'll need as many quarian hands as possible to make sure they can't."

She drops the pistol, and Tali moves forward immediately, prepping medi-gel distribution on her omni-tool.

"I was out of thermal clips, anyway," Milla murmurs, sinking back against the wall. 

* * *

Patching Milla up only takes a few minutes; half an application of medi-gel to each of her remaining wounds, and Tali slaps on some external combat seals from her pockets, helping her to her feet and reloading her pistol with a spare thermal clip. Milla is oddly silent throughout the process, getting to her feet and testing her leg.

Tali hacks her lock and steps outside, Milla at her back. The protective rail for a set of stairs leading up to the prefab is accessible from outside of the walls, but unfortunately, since the prefab sits on a large plateau of rock, it's too high to get up to the edge alone. She can hear Shepard's group approaching from the left -- the rocket drones are going wild in that direction.

"Ma'am, if Veetor locked himself in there... we're the only ones on this team with tech specialty training. I don't know if Veetor does. If they can't unlock the door from the outside, Prazza's squad might be stuck with no cover when Cerberus--"

Tali cups her hands and kneels down on one leg, gesturing with a shoulder.

"Let's go, marine."

When Milla steps up, Tali boosts her up to grip the edge of the guardrail -- she grabs on and pulls herself up, though it's clumsy. Milla turns and lets the rail dig into her stomach as she reaches down for Tali, and she pulls herself up with Milla's assistance. This is so much harder than it has to be. The marine doubles over when she gets up, hand covering her leg as the ground shakes. Tali moves to support her weight, assisting her to the door as she checks for hostile mechs -- Milla hacks the lock, and Tali hurries them both inside, thankful for the utter lack of hostiles inside. If there were a lot of mechs here before, Veetor must have deployed them all outward and into the colony by now. It should be safe.

Tali gets to her feet, taking in the unit.

_Yes! Door control._

She connects her omni-tool to the terminal.

The ground shakes. Once. Twice.

Milla steadies herself against a counter and Tali signals for her to stay down while she investigates the sound, peering out the open door. Prazza's men are falling back from the warehouse and-- a YMIR mech has just been activated. On the upper level of the loading docks, there's no cover -- every crate on the damned dock is on the lower level, farther away from the warehouse, and the marines are hesitating, unsure in their stance, wondering -- is it possible to kill this thing before it kills them, or should they run, now?

The mech takes another step forward, shaking the ground.

"Tali, my seals burst," Milla calls, covering the wounds with her hands. She'll need to be sanitized and resealed.

_Damn it._

_Maybe Shepard's team can distract it._

"Hurry, Shepard, we're inside the loading docks." Tali calls, "Veetor reprogrammed a heavy mech, it's tearing Prazza's squad apart!"

" _They did want to get to Veetor first,_ " comes an smug, accented voice over the cross comms, and Tali grits her teeth.

"Get your squad into cover and I'll open the loading bay doors."

" _Drop the door,_ " Shepard responds, near instantly.

Tali opens the doors and ducks inside, rushing to Milla's side. The unit shakes as a rocket goes off nearby, and she fumbles through the process of sanitation, applying medi-gel, and patching. Once Milla is safe, Tali gets back up and returns to the door, checking the battlefield. Shepard's catches her eye and gestures toward the crates closest to Tali; a wounded marine is curled up there, the victim of a targeted missile. She scrabbles down to scoop him up over her arm, staying behind cover as she supports him and dragging him to the safety of the prefab, close to Milla.

"Milla, patch him up. Ela'Breeya, this is Tali'Zorah. Do you read me?"

" _Loud and clear, Tali._ "

"Good. Sending a map of our location -- send the marines on the Tiral Azhana and Taana'Moress to the converging waypoint and tell them to take the straightfoward path. Prazza's men are in critical condition, I don't know how many are dead yet."

" _Yes, ma'am!_ "

The marine on the floor gasps -- the speech indicator in his helmet lights up, but Tali can't hear anything.

"He thinks he broke his ribs," Milla says, combining a patchwork of seals in preparation to seal a major suit breach. She rips the packaging of a sanitary wipe, quickly cleaning detritus from the wound and applying medi-gel before she slaps the seal on -- the ridges where they join together pucker up wildly as all the edges compress at once. She taps at something on her omni-tool, all the fear in her voice from earlier gone now that she has someone else's well-being to worry about. "They're talking on Prazza's channel, I'll patch you in."

"This is project leader Tali'Zorah speaking," she says, moving back to the far door. The YMIR mech has descended the stairs, now, trying to catch Shepard's squad out of cover. The quarians on the top level are temporarily clear, but there's no cover for her to retreat behind if the mech turns around. "Sound off if you're alive."

" _Mikal,_ " comes a weak voice, a black glove rising up from a gray envirosuit. Tali scurries to him, pulling him up and over her shoulder to support him. The punctures in his suit are small, but there are a lot of them. Behind the mech, Tali sees Shepard step out of cover to fire at the YMIR with her SMG, getting its attention. It primes its arm to launch a guided missile, but Shepard cloaks suddenly, turning its attention on the other humans. One of the humans uses crushing force on the YMIR that incapacitates it for a moment -- it gives Tali the time to retrieve Mikal and move him to safety.

"Sound off," Tali says again, immediately moving to treat his wounds. It's _bad_.

Nobody else responds.

There's a ground-shaking explosion from outside, and Tali ignores it while Mikal rocks against the floor, fingers stuck in a half bent, twitching position, trying to process the pain as she sterilizes the damage. She has to keep ripping open sanitary wipes to keep from cross contaminating the wounds -- he was face-down when she picked him up, the breaches in his suit pressed up to the dust and rubble. Every application of the chemicals stings and he hisses inside his helmet.

In her peripheral vision, Tali sees Shepard steps in, a hand on the doorframe. She doesn't look at her face, but she knows the human is surveying the damages, doing the math.

There's no time for sympathy. Someone needs to stop Veetor, and gently. Someone who could talk down an angry krogan. Someone who could reason with Saren Arterius.

"This is your chance to go find Veetor while I tend to the wounded, Shepard." Tali gestures toward the back of the loading bay distractedly with one hand, and Shepard disappears wordlessly with her squad. "Mikal, are you stable?"

"Not feeling great, ma'am," he grits out, leaning back as she applies a final patch to his suit. "But not getting any worse."

"Check the vitals on the others," Milla says, gesturing to the door, she sounds... too hopeful. "Maybe some of them just passed out from the pain."

"Look after them," Tali says, hopping up and setting up her omni-tool to check the battlefield for vitals. One body was stuck between the crates and the back of the loading bay, riddled with holes. No vitals from his suit. One between the back of the loading docks and the prefab she'd been taking cover in -- no vitals, just a pool of murky, violet blood. The last one, closer to the warehouse -- her head is just gone, the rest of her body snapped in half. Tali feels sick. The others she can transport home easily -- their bodies can be cleaned, their families can mourn in person, and then they can be cremated and become cosmic dust, like all the dead. Her head is _gone_. She won't have a viewing ceremony -- her family will never get the peace of that little bit of closure.

And Prazza. His body lies under the prefab access in the docks, laying on his chest. She scans his suit, but even seeing his faint life signs light up her omni-tool doesn't make her heart any lighter. He doesn't respond when she picks him up, carefully transporting him back to the others. He's the only person on the ground squad that's taller than her -- heavier, too. She can feel his chest rise and fall against her back as he breathes, but his external mic is transmitting raspy exhales.

"Medical team, what's your status?"

"Almost there, Tali. Just a few more minutes."

Tali sighs to herself, carefully bringing Prazza to Milla and setting her down on his other side.

"Take care of Prazza until the med team gets here. I need to check on Veetor."

She heads back outside, trying not to look at the bodies, ascending the steps--

"--need to get this data back to the Illusive Man. Grab the quarian and call the shuttle to come pick us up."

It's that woman, again. Tali angles her body to one side, walking through the door as it's opening just to reduce her travel time.

"What? Veetor is injured. He needs _treatment_ , not an interrogation." Tali gestures at Shepard, shoulders raised, tense.

"We won't hurt him. We just need to see if he knows anything else. He'll be returned unharmed." The other one sounds sincere, but he's Cerberus. Milla's fears of Cerberus stealing Veetor's pass phrase to get into the Migrant Fleet flashes through Tali's mind, leaving an imprint even as she tries to dismiss the possibility.

"Your people tried to betray us once already," the woman in white says, casually, like they hadn't been slaughtered just moments ago. "If we give him to you, we'll never get the intel we need." 

Tali sighs loudly, tilting her head back. It takes so much to stay diplomatic -- this is an unknown quantity, she won't deal with Cerberus.

She's dealing with _Shepard._ She'll appeal to _Shepard._

"Prazza was an _idiot_ , and he and his men paid for it. You're welcome to take Veetor's omni-tool data, but please. _Just_ let me take him."

It works.

Shepard turns to the other woman, arms crossed, a stern look on her brow. "He's traumatized, and he needs medical care. Tali will give us the omni-tool data and take him to the flotilla."

"Understood, Commander," says the brunette, sounding almost... interested, rather than disappointed. Confirmation of Shepard's allegiance to the downtrodden is a relief, Tali feels all the weight of the last ten minutes sink out of her body.

"Thank you, Shepard. I'm glad you're still the one giving the orders." She realizes that she's stepped much closer while speaking and takes a step back, looking to Veetor. He's holding his upper arm tight in his hand -- it's hard to tell through the suits, but it seems like enough pressure to bruise. Her people are the priority. Tali turns back, and both of the other humans are looking to her now, rather than Shepard. The woman is looking at her like she's a cell under a microscope. "Good luck out there. If I find anything that can help you, I'll let you know."

"We're ready for pickup," says the man, and he throws a glance at Shepard before moving to the door. The other woman lingers a second longer before she follows him.

Shepard tilts her head a little to one side as she looks at Tali. After a moment, her eyes widen and a gloved hand shoots up to ghost over the jagged lines in her cheek -- her visor is reflecting Shepard's face, she realizes.

She saw her reflection.

_Did she not realize she was hurt?_

"It was good to see you," Shepard says, after a moment. There's something in her face, something desperate, as she turns to the door. Her eyes seem to linger.

_I can't come with you. You can't ask me to._

"Take care of yourself, Tali."

Her voice is so soft.

_Please, ask me to._

The door clicks closed behind her.

* * *

> **[Unknown Sender]** : If you want what's best for Shepard, you'll be careful who you tell about seeing her.  
>  **[Unknown Sender]** : What do you imagine will happen if her old friends in the Alliance brass hear that she's working with Cerberus?  
> 

* * *

"I can walk," Veetor says, nervously stepping away from Dr. Chot as she tries to put him onto one of the stretchers they brought. "I-- I can just walk. Please--"

"Let him walk," Tali says, turning her gaze on the doctor. Ifa and Phava are carefully loading the injured onto the levitating platforms, and Ela'Breeya is here as well, holding Prazza's hand as Milla lifts his body. "Bring the... fallen, as well. Sorla'Yelah, come in. Did you see that Cerberus shuttle leave?"

" _Yes, ma'am,_ " comes the pilot's voice. " _Should I take their last position?_ "

"Do that. We can't bring the wounded back the way we came from the Tiral Azhana, it would take too long."

" _Understood. It'll be there._ "

"I'm going on ahead," Tali says, pointedly tilting her head to Veetor so the crew understands that her intentions aren't to leave them to do all of the heavy lifting. He doesn't notice -- he's wringing his hands, looking up at the sky, constantly shifting his gaze. "If anyone needs something, say something over comms. Let's go, Veetor."

"Okay," Veetor says, distracted. He looks at her, suddenly, then back at the sky, but he follows when she takes a few steps forward. "Are you sure they're not... they're not coming back?"

"You're safe, Veetor," Tali assures him, carefully guiding him back through the route Shepard's squad took. There's a lot of robotic carnage along this path. It would be nostalgic if she weren't so exhausted from the loss. "We'll all be safer once we get home."

"Home," Veetor echoes, wringing his hands again. His voice cracks. "Home is..."

Veetor'Nara nar Pallu'Kaziel.

_Tali, you idiot._

Near half of the Pallu'Kaziel's crew left with the Nedas movement.

"The Chayym," Tali corrects herself, turning to him. "Veetor, look at me. Do you remember Lu'Jann vas Chayym?"

He turns his gaze from the sky, lacing his fingers together, squeezing them together. "Dr. Jann? She's... nice. Her office was quiet."

"She was worried about you," Tali says, turning to look back at the path. She doesn't get the feeling he would be much of an eye contact person, even if the visors weren't standing in the way. "Captain Kar'Danna vas Rayya asked us to bring you back and make sure you're okay. Do you think it would help to talk to Dr. Jann about what you saw?"

"Maybe," Veetor says, and it's more like a reflex than an answer. He's quiet for a few seconds, then looks at the ground, grabbing at his arm again. His fingers don't even try to go all the way around -- he just digs his fingertips into the dusty-colored fabric that accents his envirosuit. When Tali's mother got sick, she wouldn't stop wrapping her fingers around her arms, rubbing them back and forth like she could generate heat that way. It just dragged the suit materials over her skin, giving her a sensitive purple rash all the way around.

"Don't hurt yourself, Veetor," Tali says, gently.

"I knew them," he says suddenly, as they're walking through a prefab. Stopped in his tracks. A large, high-resolution image frame shows who must be the inhabitants of this unit; two older humans in nice clothes lean together behind a young human girl, probably around Tali's age. Overalls, black hair tied up in a high, messy bun. She's not looking the camera straight on, but she's smiling at the large potted plant in her arms, thumbs curled around the edges far enough that they're submerged in the soil. "They... worked at the docks. She... her name was Naomi. She wanted to design hydroponic systems. She was-- she was nice to me. She said I 'got' her."

"Her name _is_ Naomi," Tali says, carefully, stepping in front of him. Trying to draw his attention. "Veetor, Commander Shepard is looking for her _right_ now. If anyone is going to find her, she will."

"They're all gone," he says, like she's not even there. He walks to the counter at the kitchenette, opening the cabinet full of cups on the first try. Pouring a glass of water, he walks behind Tali, where the plant from the image sits under a large window. "He's going to die now."

"The plant?"

Veetor pours the water around the base of the plant carefully, in a circle.

"She called it Wallace."

Just a few yards before them, near dead quarians are fighting for their lives.

She crouches down beside the plant, curling her fingers around the bottom of the pot and looking up at him.

"Help me move him outside, Veetor. It will rain eventually, he has a chance to survive until she comes back."

"Oh," Veetor says, letting go of his arm. "Okay."

Together, they move the plant, setting it a few feet from the natural shade line of the prefab -- out of the way of the stretchers, but in good enough of a place, by Tali's estimations. She knows nothing about plants.

"It's going to be alright, Veetor," she says, gesturing for him to keep walking toward the ship. "When we board, I'm going to fix your CO2 scrubbers, and Dr. Chot is going to give you some medicine to help with the fever. We might have to sterilize your suit while you stay in the clean room. Okay?"

"Okay," he says. He makes his fingers into fists and holds his hands at his side, making and unmaking them as they walk.

"It's going to be okay."

"Okay."

* * *

Tali paces the center of the Tiral Azhana, waiting for updates: this mission was only supposed to include one patient -- they were only supposed to need _one_ doctor. Instead, Dr. Chot has to scurry into decontamination, into the attached cleanroom, back into decontamination... and then to another unit's decontamination to access another clean room. Taana'Moress is doing her best to help, checking vitals regularly, but she can't do much; every quarian knows basic field medicine and suit repair protocols, but Taana's specialty is in preparing and sterilizing clean room environments. There's not much she can do, and it's stressing her out as much as it is Tali.

It's worse that half of the environments have been shielded off; the walls made opaque for patient privacy. It's helpful for the module with the corpses in it, but not being able to see the others -- moving, breathing -- Tali imagines that they're all filled with corpses. Milla's wounds weren't bad, so she's out already, but she's sequestered herself with the ration cartons. She's the only one of Prazza's team that mutinied that isn't lying prone on a cot or in a heap on the floor. 

"Taana," Tali says, gesturing to the ration area. "Go console Milla. This isn't her fault."

She doesn't say anything, but she's probably relieved for something to do. She goes immediately. Dr. Chot emerges from Prazza's clean room, fiddling with her omni-tool.

"Des'Prazza is awake," she says, looking up at Tali. "I gave him some painkillers and a slow-acting sedative, but he wants to speak to you. You know the proper decontamination procedure for entering a clean room?"

"Of course," Tali says, fidgeting with her fingers. "Can you check with Veetor? It's been thirty minutes, I want to make sure he's not hurting himself."

"His suit should come out of sterilization in a minute or two," Dr. Chot says, nodding. "When he's dressed again, I'll ask if he wants to come out."

"Thank you, doctor."

* * *

Tali's not sure what she was expecting. He's the color of dry clay, asymmetrical reddish hash marks climbing one side of his face like an angry vine. His sclera are dark, eyes light as he looks to her. Tali can't always remember what facial expressions look like on her people. She thinks he looks tired.

"Go ahead and kill me now," he says. He sounds beyond old. "I don't want to die an exile."

"They're not going to exile you, idiot." Tali pulls a knee up to rest the edge of her helmet on, looking at him. He curls rounded fingertips into the sterile white sheets of the cot -- his hands are darker than the rest of his body, with more of those hash marks on his wrists, a darker color than his face.

"Three marines are dead because of my orders," he says bluntly, staring up at the opaque, white boundary of the clean room. "It was mutiny. You completed the mission despite me, not because of me."

"That's fair," Tali says, tilting her head a little to one side. "I think most marines in your position would have done the same thing, though. It _was_ Cerberus, after all."

"And?"

"Resign from general service. Tell Captain Gerrel that this was too stressful for you, or that you want to make sure you're around to take care of your mother. But quit."

"And go where?" He sounds resentful, eyes shut tight.

"Don't go anywhere. Stay on the Neema. Just ask for a permanent post in the security force instead of ground missions. Think of it like... an old-age post."

"I'm only 47," he says, but there's no real bite to it. 

"You're right," Tali says, whistling softly as she breathes out. "A century would be a long time to live in exile. So don't. Just get a transfer."

"Why are you offering to help me?"

Tali is surprised that he sounds tired, again, not angry. Her eyes move from the white walls back to Prazza, his heavy-lidded eyes on her again.

"Your people paid for your mistake," she says, closing her eyes. "Punishing you more seems wrong, and if you're convicted of treason... your men might be convicted as well, for following you. Milla might be exiled, Mikal and Vel too. And the dead, posthumously. Mira'Bonn's family won't even be allowed to see her body because of how mutilated it is, I _can't_ let her be posthumously stricken from ship records, on top of that. If I don't mention this in my report, you can still protect the Migrant Fleet without endangering everyone with your attitude problems. Your paranoia might actually be useful in security, if you see a therapist."

Prazza is quiet for a moment, and when Tali opens her eyes again, his eyes are closed again. The blankets rise and fall slowly with his breathing.

"Unless you... want to be exiled?"

"Let me think about it," Prazza sighs out. He turns away from her to lie on his side, baring a back covered in old, lilac-tinted scars. "I'm tired."

"Fine," Tali replies, getting to her feet. "Just make your decision before we hit the relay. I need time to think of what to say."


	19. The Greater Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data changes hands and Tali tells a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the how dense Tali's mission report is... I usually just summarize those for the sake of not making the text so dense.  
> EDIT: I really need to double check these better, yikes.

> **Subject: FP Mission Report**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> _Mission Report: Freedom's Progress_   
>  _Authorization: Captain Kar'Danna vas Rayya_
> 
> _Mission Leader: Tali'Zorah vas Neema_   
>  _Squad Leader: Des'Prazza vas Neema_
> 
> Captain Kar'Danna,
> 
> Veetor'Nara nar Pallu'Kaziel has been safely extracted from Freedom's Progress. The colony was attacked by Collectors and every colonist was taken, leaving the comm towers unstaffed and Veetor alone to deal with his delusional fever. Seeing our team at a distance, Veetor believed us to be the Collectors and hid himself, activating the colony's defense systems. My team ran into Commander Shepard with a pair of Cerberus operatives investigating the attack on Freedom's Progress, which is reportedly the latest in a series of human colonies to have been hit by the Collectors. With a mutual goal in mind -- finding Veetor -- I brokered a temporary alliance with Shepard and we split apart to increase odds of survival on both teams.
> 
> By the time my team arrived at the loading docks, Berat'Naas had to be evacuated to the Tiral Azhana with major suit damage, and Milla'Jaa had taken several shots to the leg from a Hahne-Kedar rocket drone. A YMIR mech is responsible for the on-site deaths of Rach'Nehl, Mira'Bonn, and Pia'Verr vas Neema; as well as serious injury to Mikal'Taas, Vel'Dannot, and Des'Prazza vas Neema.
> 
> Commander Shepard's team was able to draw the fire of the YMIR mech, allowing Milla and I to retrieve the wounded from the field and keep them alive long enough for medical evacuation to the Tiral Azhana. This assistance, in addition to the swift response by Ifa'Kannah, Phava'Nir, Milla'Jaa, and Ela'Breeya vas Neema and the medical expertise of Dr. Maezel'Chot vas Tonbay, saved all of our wounded from death on the field or on the operating table. 
> 
> From what I understand, Cerberus invested significant resources into resurrecting Commander Shepard over the past two years, and investigating the human colonies is how she is expected to work off the personal debt. Upon crossing paths, she confirmed her identity to me with classified information that only she and I knew of, so I can say with absolute certainty that she is not a clone or a VI. 
> 
> Upon delivering my shipmates to the Neema, I will be personally escorting Veetor to the Chayym to meet up with Dr. Jann. His family on the Pallu'Kaziel departed in the Nedas exodus, so it will be up to her to see that he receives proper accommodations until he is well enough to resume his Pilgrimage.
> 
> Please contact me directly with any questions.
> 
> **Casualties:**
> 
>   * Rach'Nehl vas Neema
>   * Pia'Verr vas Neema
>   * Mira'Bonn vas Neema [Beheaded and spine broken in combat with YMIR mech, body deemed unsuitable for viewing ceremony prior to cremation.]
> 

> 
> **Injured:**
> 
>   * Berat'Naas vas Neema
>   * Milla'Jaa vas Neema
>   * Mikal'Taas vas Neema
>   * Vel'Dannot vas Neema
>   * Des'Prazza vas Neema
> 

> 
> Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya

* * *

> **Subject: Fw: FP Mission Report [URGENT] (2 attachments)  
>  From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Admiral Han'Gerrel,
> 
> Please review my mission report for Captain Kar'Danna and make yourself available for debriefing and discussion upon my return from the Chayym. I would like to act as quickly as possible on the information we have.
> 
> Against the wishes of the Cerberus operatives, Shepard agreed to leave Veetor in our custody, provided that we send them a copy of the omni-tool data he gathered relating to the attack on Freedom's Progress. The only objection they gave was that they believed we would not send the data if they allowed us to take him, so in the interest of keeping Veetor and the Migrant Fleet safe from further aggression from Cerberus, I've prepared copies for transfer, which I've included in this report.
> 
> Despite the troubling implications of Cerberus involvement, I believe that if this data can help those colonists, it is our moral imperative to see that Shepard gets it, even if the transmission vector is Cerberus.
> 
> When I agreed to work with Cerberus, my ground squad was seven strong to their three - even if one was Shepard, she didn't have the luxury of cover and had holstered her weapon upon recognizing me, so it was 7:2 in our favor. When I went to collect Veetor, all the rest of my crew were wounded and tending to the wounded. Alone, the odds were reversed, 2:1 in Cerberus favor with Shepard as an unknown quantity. While her squad wanted to take Veetor in for questioning about what he saw during the attack on the colony, Shepard instead acted on the behalf of the Migrant Fleet to see him get treatment and return home safely. I would like this to be taken into consideration when my judgement is called into question.
> 
> Two years ago, the traitor Golo'Mekk vas Nedas nar Tasi led hostile Cerberus operatives to our flotilla. Ten years before that, he was exiled for attempting to sell quarian children to the Collectors. The Admiralty Board unanimously agreed twelve years ago that preying on two dozen quarian children was unacceptable, and the Collectors have already taken far more from the humans than that, including children so small they would still have several years left in the bubbles if they were ours. The Collectors are a joint threat to the human colonies and the Migrant Fleet, and if Cerberus is prepared to do the dirty work of taking them down, I will personally have no trouble sleeping at night knowing that we enabled them to do so.
> 
> My crew is aware that we worked with Cerberus to get to Veetor, but only Veetor was present when I promised the data to Cerberus. While I stand by my decision and the belief that working with Cerberus on this one thing is the right thing to do, I also understand that my actions may cause resentment and panic on the flotilla if circulated, so I will trust you to determine the level of transparency this mission requires.
> 
> I would like to recommend that Dr. Maezel'Chot vas Tonbay be formally recognized by the Neema for saving the lives of no fewer than four of the Neema's critically injured marines. Without her constant vigil and medical knowledge, Berat'Naas and Vel'Dannot vas Neema would have died in transit. I would also like to recommend that Milla'Jaa vas Neema be formally recognized for keeping her head on straight while under incredible duress in the field. She jury-rigged a colossal suit patch for Vel'Dannot vas Neema when nearly a square foot of his envirosuit was taken off by a rocket to the chest, doubtlessly buying him enough time to be treated and stabilized by Dr. Chot aboard the Tiral Azhana.
> 
> Tali'Zorah vas Neema
> 
> [Attachments: 2.3T FP_Surveillance, 1.1T FP_Dark_Energy_Readings]

* * *

> **Subject: Freedom's Progress (2 attachments)**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Ambassador Udina,
> 
> You may not remember me, but in the interest of being recognized as a friend, I'll reintroduce myself. My name is Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya; I am the quarian who provided the evidence of Saren's betrayal that allowed Commander Shepard to prove the source of the attack on Eden Prime and become a Spectre in 2183.
> 
> My people recently extracted a sick quarian from his Pilgrimage on Freedom's Progress, only to find the town completely empty of people. The quarian we rescued managed to record footage and energy readings during the attack, definitively identifying the attackers as the Collectors. I've heard that this is not the first attack of this nature on a human colony, and as such, I doubt it will be the last.
> 
> With the hopes of protecting innocent colonists and potentially mobilizing the Alliance to counter this threat, I've attached the footage and data retrieved at the colony to this message. In the interest of buying more time for the next colony, I didn't go through the official channels, and the release of this data hasn't been approved by my superiors. My only request is that you keep the origin of these files anonymous. I know that sounds suspicious, but I hope that my involvement in protecting the human colonists at Zhu's Hope is enough to assure you that I sincerely have human colonial interests at heart.
> 
> Keelah se'lai, Ambassador.
> 
> Tali'Zorah vas Neema
> 
> [Attachments: 2.3T FP_Surveillance, 1.1T FP_Dark_Energy_Readings]

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Freedom's Progress**   
>  **From: Donnell Udina**
> 
> Tali'Zorah vas Neema,
> 
> Of course I remember you. I appreciate the personal risk you've taken on to get this data to the Alliance, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that this information is acted on quickly. Even in anonymity, your continued efforts to protect human lives have not gone unnoticed.
> 
> You have my thanks, both personally, and on behalf of humanity.
> 
> [E-Signature Transcription: Ambassador D. Udina, Human Embassy]

* * *

When the Tiral Azhana docks with the Neema, it's the uninjured who disembark, trading places with medical staff from the Neema. Sorla'Yelah stays with the medical vessel, along with Dr. Chot and Specialist Moress. Ela'Breeya offers to make a round trip to the Chayym, and Tali is happy to accept the offer. The ride is quick and painless, and Veetor is already doing much better after a few hours of letting the antibiotics and antihistamines percolate in a sterilized and repaired envirosuit -- he's not grabbing his arm anymore, but during the ride, he keeps tapping his fingers together and looking out the window, tilting his head slightly back and forth. Probably still checking for Collectors.

Tali can't blame him for being anxious. When the Honorata was chased down by Saren's mercs during her Pilgrimage, she'd avoided returning to the Migrant fleet on the off chance the mercs were stupid enough to attack, and that was one tiny operation -- just some mercs. Well-armed mercs, but _just_ mercs. The Collectors are a completely different beast altogether: nobody knows much about them, and yet the level of sophistication their technology possesses is inscrutable. Tali has never seen a Collector ship, but she has no doubts in her mind that even just one could tear through the flotilla like an angry krogan in an antique shop.

Veetor keeps bouncing his leg, and she wishes she could just touch his shoulder to calm him down -- it's so _easy_ with Sula'Vael, but she'd seen how well he reacted to Dr. Chot trying to help him. Talking had seemed to help.

"How old are you, Veetor?"

"23," he says, turning his head from the window to look at Tali. He folds his fingers together when he looks back out at the flotilla. "The, um... my birthday was last month. The Novaks, the... that family. Invited me over for their family movie night, but... I didn't go."

"They must like you a lot." Avoid the past tense, focus on the positives. "Do you watch a lot of entertainment vids?"

"No, not... not really." He's talked so little since they left Freedom's Progress, Tali keeps forgetting how soft-spoken he is. "There's always something to do on a colony. Things break. Usually, humans just want to buy a replacement part, but... they don't always need to. So I help. In town, sometimes on the farm if something breaks there. The sky is bigger away from town."

"You like to work with your hands?"

"Yes. I... leave, sometimes. Focus too hard on one thing. It's hard to get my attention until I figure it out. But I usually figure it out."

"I can understand that," Tali says, pulling a knee up under her chin. The movement catches his attention for only a split second before he looks out the window again. "On my Pilgrimage, I would spend hours taking apart ancient probes for Commander Shepard. I liked the challenge of making sure they could be put back together after."

"Yes," Veetor says, and he he turns his gaze to the floor. He's still bouncing his leg, but his shoulders are finally relaxed. "It's like that."

* * *

"Dr. Jann!"

His voice is still _so_ quiet, but the volume is still enough to make Tali jump a little with surprise.

"Veetor, it's so good to see you again. And you must be Rael's daughter."

Tali can tell that Dr. Lu'Jann is an older woman just from the way she holds herself, and the soft, kindly quality to her voice is the type that only comes with age. Her posture is good, but it's obvious that she overcorrects a little; her shoulders are too far back when she speaks, and they sink low when she relaxes. The Chayym is about as busy as any liveship is, but Veetor still seems a little better, just being close to someone familiar.

"Yes, it's good to meet you, Dr. Jann. I'm Tali. Did Dr. Chot send you the information on Veetor's treatment regimen? I have a copy if you didn't get one."

"No, that's alright, dear. I received it." Dr. Jann gestures for another woman to join them -- she's a little taller, much younger, wearing a black and copper envirosuit. Tali isn't sure she's seen that combination of colors on a quarian suit, before. It's rather stylish. "Veetor, this is Dr. Elan'Shiya vas Chayym. She's a colleague of mine, and if you'll let her, I think she can help you process your experience. Does that sound alright?"

Veetor's gaze keeps visibly drifting between Dr. Jann, Dr. Shiya, and the ceiling. It seems to be a lot to take in, he's fidgeting a lot with his hands.

"Oh, I-- if you think it's a good idea, Dr. Jann."

"It's good to meet you, Veetor. I'm looking forward to getting to know you."

Tali instantly trusts her -- she has a gentle, Rayya accent, and knowing that she grew up on one liveship and chose to work on another speaks volumes of her; she's probably hardworking, patient, and good with people. It sounds like just what Veetor needs.

"Are you okay to go with Dr. Jann?"

"Yes," Veetor says. "Thank you, Tali."

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Fw: FP Mission Report [URGENT]**   
>  **From: Han'Gerrel vas Neema**
> 
> Tali,
> 
> Come directly to see me after you return to the Neema. I'll be available.
> 
> Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema

* * *

When Tali returns to the Neema, Kal meets her just off the docks.

"Good to see you again, ma'am. I'm supposed to escort you to the captain."

"Oh," says Tali, uncertainly. "Okay."

It's not a long trip, but Kal leads her to a private room near the cockpit that Tali's never been in, before. She's walked by it before, but hasn't seen anyone come in or out. Though perhaps that has more to do with how little time she spends home than anything else.

"Good luck, ma'am," Kal says, taking a post outside the door. She was aware her report would have consequences, but she'd been able to forget about them for a few minutes while she focused on Veetor. There's nothing to hide behind, here.

The door closes behind her. It's a small room with a round table, some chairs, a large screen. Gerrel isn't alone, and he turns his head when he hears the door. The other quarian gets to his feet, turning around.

"Tali," says Rael'Zorah vas Alarei. He sounds as surprised as she feels.

It's completely unexpected.

"Hello," Tali says, completely thrown. She hasn't actually _seen_ her father since before her Pilgrimage. He looks from Tali to Gerrel, then back to Tali, giving a very slight bow.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was a bad time. I'll be around when you're finished," Rael says, and she's not sure whether he's talking to her or Han.

_He's probably talking to Han._

Her father walks right by her, close enough to touch. Right out the door. She breathes out as the door closes.

"I'm sorry, Tali," Gerrel says, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I wasn't expecting him, either. Are you prepared to discuss your mission report?"

"Yes. Of course."

The list of the dead and injured she'd sent pops up on the screen, and Tali flinches a little, seeing it. She hadn't _forgotten_ , of course she hadn't, but it's a hell of a thing to lead with.

"Your ground team on Freedom's Progress consisted of ten quarians, not including yourself. What jumps out to you about this list, Tali?"

"I'm not on it," she says, quietly. She stood by when the Council made Shepard a Spectre, and she stands the same way now -- professional, attentive, prepared to accept the weight of responsibility.

"Yes, that seemed strange to me as well," says the captain, hands behind his back.

"Prazza's team did an excellent job keeping me out of harm's way," Tali says, and it's not a _lie_. She hadn't been personally endangered on the mission, aside from when she retrieved Vel'Dannot and Mikal'Taas while the YMIR mech was still functional.

Captain Gerrel begins to pace on the other side of the table.

"You willingly worked with Cerberus operatives on this mission. Why?"

"Shepard was with them," Tali says, careful not to let any defensiveness slip into her tone. "Their appearance was convenient, and they were willing to work with us. Des'Prazza and I had just been arguing about how to reach Veetor with the defenses activated. I said we should split up into two teams to divide the drones into more manageable numbers, but since I had ordered two of our other marines to escort Berat back to the Tiral Azhana, we were down three men. Prazza was worried that the ground mechs would overwhelm our reduced squad sizes. Shepard's willingness to cooperate meant that we could still enact my plan without without worrying about being overwhelmed."

"And you just _believed_ it was Shepard?"

"When I was on Shepard's crew, we destroyed four geth outposts across the Armstrong Nebula before I discovered a signal from a fifth outpost on Solcrum. That's where my Pilgrimage data came from." She locks and unlocks her fingers behind her back, nervous about admitting this. Ultimately, the goal of the Pilgrimage gift is to be valuable: that a pilgrim secured something of value is good enough, but she doesn't want her captain to respect her less for this. Silly thing to worry about, at a time like this. "I found it, but as my captain, the data was hers to do with as she wanted. I asked for a copy of it to bring back, but only she knew about that."

She thinks for a second, and something clicks.

"And maybe Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, I mentioned something about geth data to him when we were discussing my Pilgrimage, but I didn't elaborate. He may have thought it was just the geth schematics I presented to C-Sec. And he would never work with Cerberus, anyway. He hates them."

"Would Commander Shepard ever work with Cerberus?"

Tali's blood runs cold.

_Oh._

"Not... if she had another option," Tali says, navigating the question carefully. "I received a sourceless message on Freedom's Progress suggesting that Shepard might be targeted in some way if the Alliance finds out she's working with Cerberus. I doubt the Council will want anything to do with her."

"Hm." He doesn't sound convinced. "Were there any Cerberus casualties?"

"...no, sir. There were only two of them, aside from Shepard."

"I read the report, Tali. I know. So, why were so many of our marines hurt in this joint endeavor?"

"There was a door malfunction," Tali answers. She's been thinking about this and it hurts her stomach so _much_ to lie, but she _has_ to. "Shepard's team was supposed to converge with ours on the loading docks simultaneously, but the access gate was late to respond to the command to lower. Prazza's men were attacked by a YMIR mech in the meantime -- the mech was on the upper tier with the marines, where the ground was clear for shuttles to land. Shepard's team approached from the lower tier of the courtyard, where cargo was still being unloaded. It provided cover for them that Prazza's men didn't have access to."

"I see," Gerrel says. "What about your team? They willingly worked with Cerberus?"

"They were reluctant," Tali admits. "Prazza argued with me about it, but it didn't go anywhere."

"Interesting," says Han'Gerrel. "Did that conversation sound anything like this?"

 _"Nobody would spend that much time and effort reviving Shepard just to make her follow someone else's lead,"_ Tali's voice comes from the speakers. It's a recording of their comm chatter from Freedom's Progress. _"The way she holds a gun isn't what makes her great."_

 _"What_ made _her great,"_ comes Prazza's voice. _"Now she's Cerberus."_

It's silent for a few moments.

 _"Let's wait for confirmation that Shepard's team is advancing before we move forward,"_ Tali's voice says over the speakers. The current Tali bristles -- this is when Prazza betrayed her.

 _"Milla, when we get to the other side of this door, lock it behind you."_ This must be Prazza's other comm channel. She hasn't heard this before. _"We're leaving Tali behind."_

 _"But--"_ This voice comes in loudest -- these were recorded on Milla's omni-tool. _"She's the mission leader. She's Rael's daughter, we can't just--"_

 _"She trusts Shepard more than she hates Cerberus. Veetor is already delirious, how much do you think they'll need to torture_ him _to get what they want?"_

_"...okay."_

There's radio silence for a few moments, and then...

_"Prazza, what do you think you're doing?"_

_"Finding the kid. Maybe your buddies at Cerberus will give you a ride home."_

Gerrel stops the recording there. Tali realizes that she's shaking.

"Tell me why you lied to me, Tali'Zorah."

"I-- uh..." Gerrel isn't pacing anymore, he's just standing there, looking at her. She feels so _small_. "I... Captain Kar'Danna sent us to Freedom's Progress to rescue one quarian. Instead, three died." She can't look at him. "Since Shepard took care of the mech for us and left peacefully after we got to Veetor, my judgement was correct when I chose to ally with her. So... Prazza's mutiny actively put his men in harm's way, since he tried to rush the loading bay instead of coming at it logically."

She pauses, but Gerrel doesn't move. He's still just watching her, waiting.

"His entire squad went with him; the only marines that didn't mutiny were the ones who were still on the Tiral Azhana. If Prazza faces charges for mutiny... the other four will, too. The Neema will lose eight good people instead of just three."

Gerrel starts pacing again, but this time, he doesn't take his eyes off of Tali while he does it, helmet always tilted to make his peripheral view obvious.

"You said we'd lose eight good people. What exactly about a mutineer is good, Tali'Zorah?"

Her mouth is so dry, her tongue feels like sandpaper when she goes to wet her lips.

"They-- if I didn't know Commander Shepard was real, I might have reacted the same as them. Cerberus did _horrible_ things to our people, and they hurt Prazza and Milla more than most. Prazza's decision got men killed, and it almost got him killed. But it's also a decision that I think most marines would make, if they were in his position. He was just... unfortunate enough to be the one that happened to be there."

"Exactly. He was there, and he did disobey you. And yet you made the executive decision to lie on your report to cover his ass. _Why?_ "

"Mira'Bonn vas Neema's body is so mutilated, her family isn't allowed to _see_ it before they cremate her," Tali retorts, suddenly angry. She raises her voice, she suddenly can't control it -- her hands grip the back of a chair as she leans forward. " _How_ can I do that to her? She had a _son_. Her parents are still alive, she leaves behind a loving husband. I work with Dar'Bonn in engineering! Mira's grandmother's _birthday_ is _tomorrow_. It's all she would talk about on the trip to Freedom's Progress. Her family can't pay their final respects to her body, and you want me to subject her to _posthumous exile?_ Stricken from the Neema's records? To teach _Prazza_ a lesson he'll never learn? She'd die in the dark for the crime of hating the people who wronged us!"

"And Prazza's actions _killed_ her, Tali!" Gerrel isn't shouting like she is, but he is raising his voice. He stalks toward her, arms still behind his back, but his posture is straighter than when he was pacing. "He just escapes _justice_ for that? The survivors get to walk away while the dead are scattered into space?"

" _You_ would have done the same thing!"

Captain Gerrel pauses where he stands. Tali's chest is rising and falling so hard her ribs hurt, one hand curled into a fist by her side. When did she get so _angry_? Why is she so _angry_ about this?

"What you did? Or what Prazza did?"

" _Both_." Tali's starting to come down as she's saying it, and all the blood rushing to her face has left her hands cold. She feels dizzy, her head is buzzing. "If you were Prazza, you would have mutinied. If you were me, you would have covered it up. You would have done _both_."

They just look at each other for seconds. Precious, precious seconds. She feels powerless, chest heaving as her rage cools down, while he's nearly as still as a statue.

"You're right," says Gerrel. It doesn't sound like a grand realization, just a simple statement of fact. She didn't _convince_ him of anything. "I would have."

Tali doesn't say anything. She can't.

_He was leading you here this whole time._

"But as admiral of the Heavy Fleet and captain of the Neema, those are _my_ calls to make, Tali'Zorah vas Neema. Not yours." She feels like she's dying, all of the blood rushing from her head to her stomach. Her chest feels strangely empty, she can hear the echo of her heartbeat.

Captain Gerrel returns the data screen on the wall to its blank state, returning to the front of the room.

"So, I take it Prazza was in on your little secret. What did you tell him?"

"Quit," Tali says, without thinking. "I... told him to quit. Leave the general service. For stress reasons. Try to become a permanent fixture of docking security, where his... authority issues cause less of a problem."

"Interesting," says Gerrel, casually. Nodding. "And the two you recommended for special recognition. Do you stand by those decisions?"

"Yes?"

A feather could knock her over. Gerrel hums in acknowledgement, picking up a datapad.

"Very well, I'll consider it. Do you still want to send the data to Cerberus?"

"Yes, Captain."

He nods again, then looks at her.

"You might make a fine Admiral someday, Tali'Zorah," Gerrel says, and there's not a hint of fondness in it -- just that same feeling, the neutral statement-of-fact. "But in the meantime, you're obviously grounded for at least a month. For your mental health, of course. Your first mission casualty can be overwhelming."

"Captain?"

"You may go, Tali'Zorah." Gerrel waves his hand dismissively toward the door, embedding himself in his data pad.

Trembling, she leaves the room. Kal'Reegar is waiting there and she just-- her knees give out. He catches her, and it's not _pretty_ with his elbows under her armpits, but he supports her weight, helping her to her feet. She can't walk -- she can't feel her feet.

"Sorry, ma'am," Kal says, trying to support her a little more carefully. "The captain said you might be a little woozy when you left. Your first casualty as mission leader can do that to you. You alright?"

"Yes," Tali says, still feeling faint. "I think I just need some sleep."


	20. Personal Battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali gets therapy and has a chat with someone unexpected.

It's quiet in here, the only real sound is the thrum of the overhead lights. There's an actual _couch_ , and it's _comfortable._

 _Sorry ma'am,_ Kal had said. _I have orders to take you straight to the shrink. You have the day off after that, though; you can sleep then._

It's the only comfortable thing, though. Tali doesn't want to be here, in this room, on this couch. She wants to sleep, or check the engines. Maybe watch an entertainment vid, check the news and try to guess which headlines are unwittingly about something Shepard's done.

The therapist tilts her head at a slight angle, fingers laced together in her lap.

"Have you ever lost someone close to you, Tali?"

"Of course."

It's a stupid question -- this is the Migrant Fleet. You do your best, but outbreaks happen. People get sick, ships malfunction, good people bake in their suits trying to solve a coolant problem to save the lives of their families. Everybody knows somebody that hasn't made it. Children that make it to their Pilgrimage with both parents and two sets of living grandparents tend to blow a lot of credits on the lottery. 

And besides, it's in her file. That datapad on this woman's lap, the one she's pointedly not looking at.

"When was the first time you remember losing someone?"

Tali folds her arms a little tighter over her chest, looking away. There's a motivational poster on the wall -- the silhouette of a quarian, helmet illuminated slightly from the front by an omni-tool while an enormous drive core illuminates him from the back. _We have the power,_ the text reads, bold and blocky. She sighs and closes her eyes, tilting her head back and leaning into the couch.

In her mind, the medical wing is loud. Too bright. Clean rooms line the walls, their windows all opaque -- all occupied. The virus swept the Rayya so quickly; every normally negligible suit malfunction has spiraled into a deadly fever, fraught with hallucinations and cold spells. For the past few weeks, quarantine has been in effect, and Raan has been here every moment. She guides Tali firmly by the shoulder as they enter a decontamination chamber, doctors rushing around between the clean rooms.

Barely a teen, Tali is an expert at going through decontamination -- she dutifully lifts up her arms the way her aunt does so the protocols can kill the contaminants on her suit, and Raan holds her arm, supporting Tali's weight as she picks up and holds each little foot off the floor, fully sterilizing herself. She's thorough -- she has to be thorough. It's _important_.

The sound of quiet, mechnical beeping fills the room when they enter.

"Hanya," Raan says, surprised. "You're awake."

"Shala," says Hanya'Zorah, tilting her head slightly to turn dim eyes on her friend. Where the skin of her face had once been soft and cool, it now shines slick with sweat, tinted lilac across her cheeks with the heat of the fever. She sounds as tired as the doctors outside. Tali goes to touch her mother's bare hand, but Raan gently denies her, twining their suited fingers together, instead. Hanya's gaze turns down to Tali, and she can't help but bounce a little on her feet at the attention. The past few times they've visited, her mother has been asleep. It's been so _long_. "Tali," she says, so softly. "My loves."

"I miss you, Hanya," her aunt says, and her voice wavers at the end of it.

"I'll be gone from this room sooner than you can blink," promises Hanya, reaching up to Raan's helmet with a weak arm. Raan steadies herself at her bedside as she kneels down to meet Hanya's hand, just to make it a little easier. Tali can see little raised spots on her mother's upper arms -- an angry, lilac rash with blotchy, purpley spots. They make her skin feel hot and itchy just looking at them.

"Mom," Tali says, and her mother's other hand comes to meet her. She copies Raan, kneeling in close so she doesn't have to reach as far.

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," she says, closing her eyes. Her breathing is deep, but she rasps when she does it. "My little protostar. You are a light in the dark. If you shine your light on others... one day, I believe you will illuminate even the darkest corners of this galaxy."

"I love you," Tali says, pressing her head into her mom's palm, desperately wishing she could _feel_ it. "I love you so _much,_ mom."

"Take care of her," says Hanya.

 _I will,_ Tali promises, closing her eyes.

"My mother died when I was 14," Tali tells the therapist. She crosses her legs, looking back at that poster. The image on the screen changes to another one, a vertical chain of colorfully-suited quarians, all holding hands. With one hand, they're each lifted up by another quarian, and with the other, they lift another up. _In a tight-knit community, there is no shame in asking for help,_ the poster reads. "But 2175 was a long time ago. It doesn't bother me anymore."

Tali is 14 years old the first time she hits someone. The fabric of a traditional quarian gown falls around Hanya's elevated body in soft, beautiful waves, covering the damage on her arms, and she's so _still_. It's the first and last time her mother ever wore a dress.

"You weren't _there!_ " Tali shrieks as she hits her father again, an open hand against his chest, and he doesn't seem to know how to react; he can't lift his eyes from Hanya's face. "You left her _alone!_ "

Rael looks at Tali, but he doesn't say anything, he just holds his hand up, like he's thinking of what to do. Ultimately, he curls his fingers into his palm and doesn't do _anything_. She hits him again for his inaction -- she can't breathe. The rest of the mourners are whispering amongst themselves, staring.

Auntie Raan drags her from the viewing chamber and into the hallway and Tali's crying, kicking out her limbs every which way -- Raan forces her to sit down, getting down on the floor with her. She wraps her legs and arms around Tali's little body, resting her chin on top of her head, holding her tight and immobile. Tali digs her fingers into Raan's belts and screams, and screams. And then she cries, pressing her visor into Raan's shoulder, willing it to crack with the force. Her aunt rubs her back, singing a lullaby to her in an unsteady voice.

When the time comes to scatter Hanya's ashes, Rael isn't there.

Raan holds Tali's hand as they press handfuls of dust through the atmospheric barrier between the cargo bay and open space. Tali makes shapes with the ash: trees and plains, a landscape of dust for her mother's soul to dwell in that surpasses even the fairytale descriptions of Rannoch. The walled garden she always wanted to return to one day. Raan writes a Khelish prayer. The ash doesn't keep its intended shape in the vacuum, but it's just the act of writing, of drawing, of expressing wishes and love to the lost. Tali draws one bird too many and folds her hands together, worrying that they'll savage the garden in her mother's afterlife.

Raan lets out a heavy exhale once neither of them have touched the dust for a minute.

"Your father is trying, Tali," Raan says, sealing off the remaining ashes. It's tradition not to stop until they've all been spread, but she slips the container in her pocket with a clean hand, instead. "Being an admiral... it's difficult to adjust to. There are so many people to take care of, and he did everything he could for your mother. He loved her. We _all_ loved her. She wouldn't want us... wouldn't want _you_ to be upset with him."

Tali knows. She knows that the research he's prioritized on the Alarei since the outbreak has already helped to stabilize most of the other quarians who fell ill on the Rayya. She knows it, but she's too empty to feel resentment, or pride, or love. For her father, for anyone.

Raan sounds so much older, since Tali's mother died. Sadder. Rael was her friend first, but Hanya was always _there_. With her; laughing, crying, lifting Tali up between them with one hand each, swinging her back and forth.

"Sometimes, people leave you before you're ready," Raan says, her voice tight, fingers curled on one hand. "It's a part of growing up--"

_Being an admiral is hard. She's doing her best._

Tali's a good girl, and she made a promise. She presses her visor against her aunt's chest, hugging her tightly.

"It's okay. I love you, Auntie Raan."

Raan makes a sound Tali can't identify, wrapping one arm around her, curling fingers into the fabric of her suit as her chest heaves--

"It's not shameful to still feel strongly about something that happened a long time ago," the therapist interrupts.

Tali resolves to look at her. Just her. Nothing to remind her of her family; a blue and gold environmental suit, a quiet room. No medical machines, no dust.

"I _don't_ feel strongly about it," Tali snaps. She breathes out, relaxes. Shrugs one shoulder. "She died. It was... slow. Painful, for a while after. I saw her in everything. But eventually when the pain went away, I was just left with the memories before, and it was fine. I don't get upset when I think about it. I'm okay, you know? It's been a decade. Our people... we're hardy, but we're not sturdy. We see death in a cracked screen or a torn scrap of fabric. It _has_ to stop hurting eventually, or your past controls you. You can't move into the future like that."

"Do you expect to stop thinking about your team, soon?"

Her voice isn't accusatory when she asks, but it stings anyway. Tali exhales, pulling both of her feet up onto the couch -- she digs her heels into the padding on the edge, just barely getting enough pressure against the frame underneath to keep her legs in place. The uncomfortable stretch of her calves is a good distraction from her thoughts.

"No. It's still... raw. I feel guilty. They trusted me," Tali lies, and it twists at her stomach. She's never been a good liar. "I didn't work hard enough to keep them safe."

"You never lost a marine before this mission," the therapist says, trying to be comforting. "You've been doing work for the Admiralty Board for two years. Your record before this was pristine. The families of the marines don't blame you, and we _all_ know how hard you work, Tali'Zorah. _Nobody_ expects this to be your new normal."

"I know," Tali says, wrapping her arms around her knees. "It's just... there's so much that needs to get done. There's so little time to waste, and I can't help anyone while I'm like this."

"You still have a job. You work in engineering." The therapist tilts her head a little to the other side, slightly changing her posture. She hadn't moved in several minutes, before now. "You keep the Neema running, and that helps everyone who lives here. Right?"

"Right," Tali sighs.

"It's noble to want to help your fellow quarians, but you can do that just fine here until you're cleared to take on work from the Conclave again. If you're doing better by the end of the month, I can recommend you for a salvage run. Would you like that?"

_Commander Shepard is out there with terrorists at her back, trying to save the galaxy all over again, and I'll be lucky to be lugging salvage in the next few weeks._

"Thank you, doctor," Tali says, instead. She tries to sound hopeful. "I'll look forward to it."

* * *

"Tali," says the voice as soon as she steps out of the office. It's her father. He sounds... relieved.

"Admiral," she says, stiffly. It's an inopportune time, she's so _tired_. A lot of old stuff at the forefront of her mind, she just wants to sleep--

"My girl," he says, but he doesn't approach. It's melancholic, almost, the way he says it. "I heard about all the casualties on the Tiral Azhana, but information hadn't come off the ship yet, so..." He seems to stiffen as he speaks, backing off and reverting to squared shoulders, composure. Distancing himself. "I'm glad to see that you returned from your mission safely."

"I get by," Tali says. She's crossing her arms. When did she cross her arms?

She uncrosses her arms.

"Did you want to... sit down, for a minute? Dad?"

"I should get back to the Alarei," he says, checking his omni-tool.

"Oh," she says.

"But, they... will be fine without me for an hour." He doesn't seem fully comfortable, but he's making an attempt, at least. Tali can't remember the last time she sat down with her father. "Let's get something to drink. We can... talk. About... whatever _you've_ been up to."

* * *

He's there, and for a while, he's _there_. But the excitement about Tali's continued existence does eventually peter out, and Rael has to leave for the Alarei again.

Tali wonders how other children speak to their fathers -- as a child, she hadn't really had the experience, and never paid attention. She spent so much time with her mother and Raan, running around with other young girls on the Rayya, cuddled up and watching cheesy old vids. Talking with Rael is like talking to an old neighbor you never really connected with, but for the first time, it really strikes her that he doesn't _have_ any experience parenting. His questions are vague and come from nowhere, as if he studied a help site about reconnecting with estranged family before he visited. He asks if she has a _boyfriend_ yet, as if she's 16, or 40.

"Of _course_ not. I've been busy."

"Not as busy now."

"Ah, but according to the captain, I'm deeply traumatized. Not a great time to seek romance."

"Well, perhaps not. And how is your job?"

It's ridiculous -- months of texts from Raan pestering her to get a boyfriend, asking about kids; Tali's parents didn't even have her until they were in their late thirties! She's only 24! The flotilla has been in such a flux, they're on an 88 year countdown to total flotilla collapse, and whether or not Han'Gerrel is sending her on the investigative missions anymore, the Reapers _are_ still coming. How can she possibly justify scouting around for a smart marine with a nice voice to make a _baby_ with while the galaxy might only be _days_ away from ending?

Who would knowingly bring a child into war?

It wasn't endearing, really, but it was... informative, somewhat. Strip down the Admiral, and there's actually a man in there: socially malnourished, unsure, distant, but a person. He puts a hand on her shoulder, gives her a little speech. It's been years since the last one -- the one he sent off with her on Pilgrimage. It's the same now.

_You're the future of our people._

_Work hard._

_Make us proud._

_Do what's right._

Maybe she doesn't need to talk to her father. She already knows what he's going to say.

* * *

Tali has a day off after she sees Gerrel, and she spends the whole thing sleeping fitfully, never staying asleep long enough to have dreams. She wakes up with her old Solokov in hand and has to take it apart to remove the firing mechanism -- it may be a peashooter compared to newer weapons, but to a civilian, it's still deadly, and quarian bunks are more like tiny cubicles than proper rooms.

She falls asleep with her old shotgun in her arms and dreams about the Normandy; back in the good old days, when she used to be able to get things done. Every day was something important. Saving lives, shutting down rogue AI, pushing back the geth. Rescuing Veetor was the first mission with purpose she'd had in nearly a year, and now she can't do anything.

Working on the flotilla had always seemed like the most important thing she could do -- even the littlest actions to assist in the continued survival of her people: repairing a bulkhead, trimming emissions, maximizing fuel efficiency. It's still important, but remembering what's coming... not knowing when.

It's horrible. She thinks back to Garrus all those years ago, lashing out at her from behind his desk in C-Sec. He's probably been going crazy without something evil to shoot at.

_Things have to get better, or Sovereign won._

But what can she _do_ about it?

* * *

> **Subject: Commendation**   
>  **From: Mila'Jaa vas Neema**
> 
> Tali'Zorah,
> 
> As I'm sure you know, I was just acknowledged by the Admiralty Board for my bravery and strength under duress on Freedom's Progress. When I sent Admiral Han'Gerrel that comm chatter, I thought I was going to be exiled. I thought Prazza was going to be exiled. I was so sure we deserved it.
> 
> I don't know how I feel, being rewarded when good people died because of me. I think if even one of us had stood up to him, none of this would have happened. I could have been that one. But I wasn't strong enough.
> 
> l'm asking for patrol duty for a while. I don't want to have to make a choice like that again any time soon.
> 
> I'm so sorry.
> 
> Milla'Jaa

* * *

Prazza makes an effort to stay out of Tali's way once he's released from medical custody. Rumor has it he had a nervous breakdown. He misses his mom. He wasn't cut out to be a marine.

He works in security, now, checking every flagged ship and constantly prowling the docks looking for graffiti and prohibited tech. Tali takes her lunch down there sometimes, just to watch him acclimate. He has a limp for a few days, but he gets stronger, and before long, he almost seems _proud_ of his work.

Rumor has it he bites less, talks more. Drinks more. Argues less.

She hears him laugh.

It's relieving to know that things turned out okay, but was it selfish to decide his life for him this way? Prazza may be doing better, but is he actually happy, or is he just making the best of it?

For weeks, it keeps her up at night.

* * *

"You'll make us all proud," echoes her father. "No matter where you go."

Tali doesn't know where she is.

A hail of bullets rains down on her, sizzling her environmental suit as she tries to escape. Polonium rounds -- she feels sick on contact, and she digs her fingers into a tactile lock in front of her, desperately working it open. Every time she almost has it, the lock seems to reset: two, four, five times it does this before it finally opens and she can slip inside. She checks her pockets for suit seals -- they're empty. Below her, the floor is a grate -- fire licks at the walls, a blue-suited quarian rests against the wall, bleeding out. 

"I think I'll just sit here for a while," Keenah rasps. Tali dives down to try to pick him up, to carry him out, but he's too heavy. He doesn't budge, and the room's heating up more with every second. She hears a clatter beside her, and the doors have disappeared. A ladder falls to the floor and she looks up; a turian with an assault rifle stalks along the catwalk above, grinning wildly. The flame consumes her, her visor cracks--

"Wake up," says a voice, someone's shaking her shoulder. "Tali'Zorah, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Tali opens her eyes to see a pair of shoulders without a head, a trio of soldiers riddled with holes looming over her, whispering indistinctly -- they get louder, louder, but she still can't understand. Her heart races. She can't move her head or her body; just her eyes. It's dark in her room, but behind them, she can see the glow of an old model of human armor, vaguely illuminating a copper-plated, ancient-looking bomb as ten fingers move across it. From the darkness, a horde of geth slowly draw closer.

Tali closes her eyes, hard.

_This isn't real._

_It isn't real._

When she opens her eyes, it's gone. She can move again.

She holds her Solokov tight, knees pulled up to her chest around it.

* * *

" _Will_ I do what's right?"

"What do you mean?" her therapist asks, leaning back a little.

"He always used to end his speeches like that. _Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, I know you'll do what's right._ Do you think that's true?"

"Elaborate for me."

Tali bends her knees over the arm of the couch, laying back on the cushions and resting her folded hands over her stomach. It's been nearly three weeks since they started their sessions; she's been worn out of trying to hold composure. Their rapport is better now that she shares more -- counter-intuitively, by acting _less_ in control of herself, Tali's progressing more quickly toward being allowed to head another mission away from the fleet.

"I've always tried to do what's best for everyone... as a child, I never lied. I behaved, I could get overly excited but I wasn't _unruly_. When I went on Pilgrimage, I made the call to put the Honorata down and salvage that geth data. I made sure to tag along so I could help stop Saren from destroying the Citadel. I chose to work with Cerberus on Freedom's Progress, and that helped us bring Veetor home. But if it _hadn't_ worked out, I'd easily be exiled. It was the correct decision, but was it the _right_ decision? Do I make the _right_ decisions? Or are they just decisions I've made?"

"You're unsure whether you consciously make choices on behalf of the greater good, or if you're just categorizing every successful action you've taken as one made on behalf of the greater good. Is that right?"

Tali nods slowly.

"That sounds like what I mean. _Do_ I have everyone's best interests in mind? Or is it just that I never believe I'm wrong? I don't know. I don't know if I want to find out that I'm just a self-centered person with good luck."

"From our sessions so far, I think you have a good heart, and you want the best for the people around you." The other woman taps her foot slightly, then shifts back, steepling her fingertips. "Let's look at it from another angle. If it hadn't been you -- if Captain Kar'Danna had sent someone else on the mission to Freedom's Progress, and their mission leader had allied with Cerberus, would you say they made the right decision?"

"That's... hard to answer."

"Because?"

Tali sighs, clouding up the inside of her helmet.

"It doesn't account for what happens to Veetor."

"That's your answer, then. It isn't about accruing a sense of virtue, or a feeling of superiority for being correct. What you care about is how your decisions impact the people you've committed to care for. I think that means you generally do what's _right_ , even if that may not be the popular opinion on what's correct."

"Well, that's a relief," Tali says, draping her forearm over her visor. "I've only been agonizing over _that_ for the last decade or so."

"I'm clearing you to leave the Neema," her therapist says, gently tapping on her data pad. "I think you're ready to be out there. Though you may want to sit up straight in front of your men."


	21. Haestrom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali takes on and completes a mission to Haestrom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggle really hard with having to go through the dialogue in scenes like this where it's all pre-scripted, because you can't really skip something like a reunion, you know? Sorry for the full day's delay, I'll try to be more prompt in the future.

> **[Han]** : Heard you're cleared for duty again. Come to the conference room immediately.

Tali's barely been out of therapy an hour when she gets the message. The walk through the Neema isn't long, but she doesn't rush with it, carrying her thoughts with her. What are Captain _Gerrel's_ intentions? He saddled her with therapy, but what was the purpose of that? Protocol? Genuine care for her wellbeing? Was it to send a message to the surviving mutineers? Was it to send a message to her? What message? Or was it punishment? And if so, what was the punishment _for?_ Allying with Cerberus? Failing to maintain the trust of her ground team? Or was it just for making those decisions herself, for lying in her report and attempting to take away Han's power? Had that been for the right reasons, or did she just feel responsible for the mutiny and its results? What was he expecting from her?

 _And what does he want now?_

Tali can't help but wonder, standing before the door to the conference room.

When she steps inside, she's greeted by Han'Gerrel, standing at the head of the table. On either side of him, each of the other members of the Admiralty Board are projected to their true-to-life heights, and Gerrel turns to wave her to a spot at the opposite end of the table -- a circle inset with the floor.

_Alright._

_Not quite the salvage mission I was promised, then._

Once she steps inside, the interface raises up around her, and the rest of the admirals set their gaze on Tali.

"Welcome, Tali'Zorah," says Admiral Gerrel. "We're here to discuss a project, and your medical clearance was timely. Since your mission to Freedom's Progress, I assume you've thoroughly studied the readings from Veetor's omni-tool?"

Was she supposed to?

"Yes," Tali replies, folding her hands behind her back. "Is that alright?"

"Of course, Tali'Zorah," Admiral Xen says, crossing her arms. "It's why you've been brought here instead of a different candidate."

"As you're well aware, there are no quarian biotics," Raan begins. "Even before our ancestors were driven from the homeworld, there were few quarians with biotic tendencies, and all hailed from the colony worlds."

"Confined to our ships," Xen continues, standing up straight, "we have few resources, inadequate space, and insufficient ability to study dark energy beyond attempting to improve our mass effect drives. And because of our exile, unlike other species, we do not have the ability to freely test theories about the utilization of mass effect fields and dark energy manipulation in miniature through the employment of biotic scientists. However curious we may be, any large-scale research into dark energy is beyond our means. Despite knowing this, the readings from Freedom's Progress are... troubling."

On the screen behind Gerrel, a graph attempts to quantify Veetor's data. 'Troubling' is a word for it. The level of energy recorded starts at an unfathomably high cap, then lowers to a much lower level -- but still high, by any stretch of the imagination. Instantly, toward the end of the recording, it jumps up again.

"You told me as much as you knew about the Normandy's stealth system when you first became part of my crew, Tali," Admiral Gerrel says, pacing at the end of the table. "The amount of eezo contained in that core is enormous."

"I've estimated that the at-rest levels of dark energy generated by the Collector ship in these scans are upwards of 60 times higher than those generated by the Normandy while moving at FTL speeds. Just to give you a sense of scope," Xen says, uncrossing her arms. "However, even I would have never been able to guess that the readings generated by the ship while _moving_ were dark energy until I had data showing the escalation. That these levels are capable of being achieved outside of a mass relay... it made me think of an old project that we abandoned in 1896."

Xen does something on her omni-tool, and the screen behind Gerrel comes to life -- the Milky Way galaxy, the Far Rim. The beginning of geth space.

"This star is called Dholen," says Xen, zooming in on the system from her galaxy map interface. "It's highly unstable, and our scientists were concerned that it was likely to become a red giant, despite being too young to be at that stage in its development. Its maturation has resulted in many a magnetic eruption and solar disturbance over the centuries."

"They were worried that the star's rapidly increasing mass might disrupt the local relay," Tali reasons, tilting her head slightly. "The relay would have been designed to stay in place, with long-term, anti-drift protocols built in to maintain its position, even during the changes in gravity that come with the natural evolution of a star. But Dholen's accelerated growth couldn't have been predicted when the relays were built, and it's starting to reach the point where its gravitational pull might exceed whatever safety measures are in place on the relay."

"Yes," says Xen, pleased. "They _had_ informed me you were a bit more than a common wrench jockey."

Rael and Shala turn sharply to look at Xen, but neither interjects. Tali tries not to let it get to her -- _all_ of the Special Projects people are like this. She's used to it.

"As you're aware," Xen says, either oblivious or uncaring of the stares, "the mass relay in the Far Rim is the only thing connecting the Perseus Veil to the rest of the galaxy. If it were to fall into the sun, or otherwise fall far out of alignment, Rannoch would be lost to our people, just as Ilos was before Commander Shepard discovered the new location of the Mu Relay. Our ancestors built a research facility to study Dholen here," she continues, selecting the third planet from the sun. "This is Haestrom. Before the sun started deteriorating, there was a small colony there, but it was eventually evacuated when the magnetosphere was disrupted by the sun. By the time the geth turned against us, only a single solar observation compound was left populated, dedicated to taking various readings from the sun. When the geth turned against us, this research post was quickly wiped out, and the information it holds has been lost to time."

"Until now," Admiral Gerrel continues. "We're sending you down there to reclaim the data that we left behind all those centuries ago. Admiral Xen believes that Dholen may have been recording levels of dark energy we couldn't have _begun_ to recognize at the time of these tests. If we can determine whether dark energy is to blame for disrupting the mass of the star, we can start making long-term plans to counteract these effects before things get critical in the system. Once we retake the homeworld and have the resources to spare."

"Will we even be able to _act_ on this information?" So _that's_ Admiral Koris. In the few times she's been addressed by the Admiralty Board, Tali has never actually heard him speak. She _has_ heard stories, though. Unflattering ones. "Doesn't it seem like a fool's errand, throwing quarians at data that _might_ prove a theory on the off chance that things change dramatically in the next century?"

Gerrel moves his head in a way that indicates he's probably heavily rolling his eyes, in there. Tali notices that he's actually not broadcasting a hologram -- perhaps where she's standing is where he's supposed to stand?

It's lucky that she is, if a word from the Civilian Fleet is enough to keep him from managing his body language.

"We can figure that out once we have the data, Admiral Koris," and that's Shala, shaking her head. "We've already sent the Idenna out to look for new worlds like you wanted, we have to have all of the options in front of us before we make hasty decisions."

Koris crosses his arms.

"Very well, but if you _insist_ on sending someone, should it really be--"

"Tali," Xen interrupts, clearly fed up with the unrelated cross talk. "You've been selected to lead this mission because you're still one of our lead field experts on the geth. We have plenty of scholars, of course, but you've already _faced_ them. You know how to manipulate them in real time, and you already know how you react to seeing a hostile geth. We can't afford any hesitation or fear on this mission - as few unknown variables as possible. You're a known quantity, and that makes you valuable. I'm authorizing the funds to update your equipment -- you'll need top of the line radiation updates, as well as the identification suites to identify the old tech you find. And update your omni-tool while you're at it, I don't want our precious data compromised by lossy file storage."

"Yes, Admiral Xen," Tali replies with remarkable professionalism, considering the fact that she's teetering between excited to have access to shiny new upgrades and offended that Xen thinks she would compromise valuable data with bad filing habits.

"We'll also need current readings of the sun before you leave Haestrom, so we can establish a timeline of radiation growth," Rael adds. "You'll be provided the equipment to take the readings and a small team of scientists from Xen's fleet."

"I've taken the liberty of choosing a ground team for you," Admiral Gerrel says. "One that can take orders."

"Good," says Tali. "When do we leave?"

* * *

They leave three days later, as it turns out. This is her first time as a project leader -- not a _mission_ leader, a project leader. She's going to _geth space_.

Nerves turn to excitement, and excitement turns back to nerves. She spends a lot of time pacing around the docks, staring out the windows.

_Geth space._

There's something so ludicrous about being given a truly important mission, now... and it's something that can't be acted on, most likely for decades. The Reapers are still out there, and she's playing the part of a delivery drone.

The worst part is, if it weren't for the way Dholen's magnetic outbursts and radiation hit Haestrom, this mission _could_ be handled by a drone.

But in this case, ground communications aren't possible. She's studied up -- even before the geth rose against the quarians, information could only be beamed from Haestrom by one powerful comm tower at the center of the complex, and even _then_ it had to be at night, where the planet's orbital comm stations were shielded from the brunt of Dholen's aggressive magnetism by sitting in the shade of Haestrom's dark side. Those stations had been quickly overtaken by the geth, who could _easily_ override controls and cut off external communications.

Xen assures her that the complex won't have the same issues. It's supposedly very manual, very "rustic," as Xen had said in an unflattering tone. Great stone walls and old interfaces.

It's exciting, again.

She remembers that Gerrel has preselected her ground team, and that most of the marines she'd been running missions with for the past two years had either died or quietly taken on less physically taxing duties.

She's nervous, again.

After three days, she prepares to board the Yatarkaai, an old salarian vessel rumored to have once been STG. Personally, Tali doubts the Salarian Union would allow quarians to get their hands on STG equipment, even if it _was_ going to be thrown away. That's just the type of people they are. But quarians are a little superstitious, as a people, and the selection of a ship is a mixture of how well it fits the needs of the mission and what kind of luck you're trying to bring. Evidently, this mission requires some serious sneaky energy.

"Good to see you, ma'am," Kal says, greeting her with a salute. His marines salute behind him, prepared to fall into line. "I've been assigned to protect the Yatarkaai and its crew on our mission to Haestrom."

"At ease, Kal'Reegar," Tali says, fond note in her voice . They haven't actually worked together since Trebin two years ago, but he left a damned good impression on her. It's beyond relieving to go into this knowing _someone_. "Am I finally going to get to see you in action?"

"Hopefully not," he replies, keeping pace with her as she enters decontamination. "This is supposed to be a stealth mission. If we all do our jobs right, we get in and out -- no problems. Not that I'm averse, but no geth is preferable to too many geth."

"I didn't put together the pieces," Tali says, crossing her arms. "Well, I mean, it makes sense, that it's stealth, but I don't _really_ want to be on the day side of Haestrom..."

"Nobody wants to be on the day side of Haestrom, ma'am."

"It's too bad the old Normandy blew up," she laments, stepping into the ship proper. "I would really appreciate that stealth drive right about now."

* * *

Aside from Kal'Reegar and Roun'Marrin from Trebin, Tali recognizes Mya'Valus on the science team, a few other marines from Trebin, one from Solcrum. The pilot and navigator are both from Xen's fleet, quiet and difficult to talk to. Small science team, but they're Xen's, too. She doesn't know most of them, but Mya's here -- so is a scientist whose pockets _always_ have to be checked before he goes through decontamination: he _always_ wants to bring rocks onto the fleet, outside of sealed containers, unsanitized. Being a quarian geologist must be suffering.

Mya doesn't talk much to her this time; the Special Projects arm of the fleet can be a little insular when you get more than one of them in a room.

Tali doesn't bother, this time: it's more important to get to know the marines, since they're the ones she's going to have to depend on in the likely event that a fight crops up. They all seem mature, upright -- there's about a dozen of them. The distance between this mission and Freedom's Progress feels like a chasm; it's sobering to have so much responsibility.

"Alright," Tali says, and her heart beats out of sync for a moment, addressing marines for the first time in a month. When had she gotten used to it? When had it gotten _scary_ again? "I'm Project Leader Tali'Zorah vas Neema, and I'm leading this mission to Haestrom. We're looking for lost data about what's making Dholen go unstable -- without getting too deep into it, our people's future on Rannoch may depend on this information. The overwhelming magnetic eruptions and radiation from the sun should hide our emissions, but I'm having the Yatarkaai make a short trip around the back of the sun to make sure our heat signature isn't picked up by the geth when we're fresh off the relay. It'll give us a chance to hide if we're spotted. We'll stay on low emissions and make our short-term plans when we land. The Yatarkaai is going to stay off the ground to avoid visual scans in case the geth make a sweep. Until then, you're all dismissed."

It's good to be saluted, again. Some tiny part of her never thought it would happen again.

* * *

"Heard about that human colony," Kal tells her, dropping his voice down quiet. He's not one to take a seat that hasn't been offered, but he _does_ hover at times. It comes across more friendly than unwanted, lucky for him. "Up and vanished, huh."

"Yeah," Tali sighs, leaning back in the seat. This one's actually original to the craft -- salarians are nearly a foot and a half taller than the average quarian, the back of this thing _dwarfs_ her. Comfortable, though. "Collectors."

"Bastards," Kal agrees, nodding. Then, a little more quietly, "I hear Prazza's working dock security, now."

"He needed a change of pace," she says, delicately.

"I don't doubt it, ma'am. I'm just glad he's still with us."

* * *

Landing is a cinch: they took the long route around the back of Dholen, but it didn't matter, in the end. Their sensors couldn't read whether there was a geth tail, and if they couldn't read that, surely the geth couldn't have tailed them to begin with.

"Alright, Yatarkaai, go hide in the sun," Tali says as the last marine hops down from the vessel. The salarian vessel pulls away quick and quiet, leaving them alone on this eerie world. Great, stone structures loom all around them, and she thinks she may be in love. "The Admiralty Board said to make heavy use of recording equipment along the way, so feel free to really let loose. Talk about your day."

Only one scientist laughs at that, and she can't identify them, but she decides they're now her favorite. The _real_ purpose of the logs is a little more morbid -- something for the next team to follow if they fail.

"Alright, men. This should be quick and easy, so let's keep it simple." The marines are already divided into two groups, and Kal gestures briefly to each of them when he speaks. "OP-1, OP-2. As we close in on the center of the complex, we methodically leave a squad to hold the position, keep lookout, and make sure there's a safe path back to the LZ. Magnetosphere fluctuations can render standard comms worthless at any time, so keep your radios on you and stay in contact. We get that data, we get out. Understood?"

"Understood!"

"And don't stand in the sun," Tali adds, straightening up. Kal's so serious when he's in his element. "Your shields will fry."

* * *

Great, big computing interfaces fill the buildings -- gorgeous old tech, still functional 300 years later. Xen's team is on it like flies on fruit, pulling data, interpreting it, dragging their pallet of equipment behind them. The marines are less sentimental about some old computers, but unlike these walls, they're not made of stone; Tali wonders what they're thinking, being here. Quarian architecture. The stone walls are so huge, roughly hewn on the inside: were all quarian buildings like this, back then? Or were these buildings built this way after the Haestrom colony was recalled, to protect its scientists and equipment against the solar radiation?

She can't spare time to dwell, to run her fingers over the rock and call it _study_. One of the science team members beams the most recent local map of the complex to everyone's omni-tools, their waypoint to the central observatory and hub already highlighted. It's hard not to get distracted by the large courtyards, the overhead bridges -- large walls, ancient crates. What's inside? Rations, irradiated? Turned to dust? Furnishings, never unpacked? Old equipment? Whatever it is, it's likely been destroyed by Dholen. But she's so _curious_. The rust on the edges of the crates implies _moisture_ : does it _rain_ here, somehow? Did it rain here before everyone was killed? Did the crates _arrive_ rusted? Why? How is it so big here? How many quarians lived in this huge complex? Why does it look like it was still being built?

Is it strange to spend so much time thinking about this? Shepard would have even more questions than her, probably. She'd be able to ramble about it.

* * *

The scientists lag behind -- Tali suggests solving the core sample issues they've run into with explosives, but Xen's team is _not_ fond of that option. They end up bickering for a while, trying out a few alternative options, frying their equipment in the sun. She's never hated her helmet as much as she does right now -- she has a strong urge to do that _human_ thing, hitting her head against a wall to kill a few brain cells so it's easier to stand all the bickering. The heat doesn't help; most everyone without a military background is tense and crabby.

Tali scoots on across the valley little, just to check out what's ahead in person -- another large bunker ahead of the last one, and this is fine. This one seems to have shutters, and she knows it overlooks the home stretch -- they're almost there, they're _so_ close. The radio chatter is picking up a little, but it's just some of the marines giving each other shit. Something about a handheld comm just turns men into idiot children.

Nothing concerning has happened in a little over an hour, so she lets herself be taken in again by this _place_.

There aren't any _remains_ , and that's the strangest part, really. Sure, it had been nearly three centuries since this place was lost, but surely there should be some physical evidence of the people who were here before; piles of irradiated soil outside, or just the bones left inside. It's been both relieving and unsettling to find no bodies.

"Ma'am." Kal approaches her side, voice low over his suit's external speakers. Comms are dicey, but this is about privacy. "Do you want to move ahead with the science team, or half of it?"

"They're Xen's," Tali decides, sighing. "They might just mutiny if we don't let them do what they want here. Better to have collection and downloading operations happening simultaneously so we can finish up faster. Leave the science team with OP-1 to continue their testing. We'll move faster without them, get our data, and we can get out of here."

"Understood," Kal replies, and it's not the first time that she hears what might be _satisfaction_. It occasionally felt like he was testing her back on Trebin, and this just adds more fuel to the suspicions she held then. He gets his radio in hand to address the marines. "This is squad leader Kal'Reegar, how do you copy? Over."

"OP-1 copies 4 of 5, over."

"OP-1, hold the bunker with the scientists and establish base camp, you're responsible for the equipment. OP-2 is escorting Tali'Zorah, over."

"Roger. OP-1, over and out."

OP-2 splits off from the science team to secure the next bunker -- she takes a cursory look around at the systems here, she can't _help_ it. It's an old habit.

They _were_ here, weren't they? Tali had to download a legacy translation patch, update it for modern systems and integrate it with her omni-tool specifically for this mission -- some of the data OP-1's science team found along the way is recorded in several _different_ quarian dialects. It blows her mind. This place is a time _before_ contemporary Khelish. Could Tali speak these dialects properly if she read them aloud? Would she have an accent? What does this say about Rannoch, what were the people like _there?_

Everything she's ever learned about Rannoch has always been this and that about the environment, the atmosphere, the wind, the clouds, the clear waters and the beautiful plants -- oh, how the books love to talk about the beautiful plants on the homeworld. Fresh air. Rolling plains. _Deep canyons the color of autumn,_ a famous quarian poem once said, but modern quarians know not of seasons, much less of cities and towns. Farmsteads. It's a vivid paint with no color, to the quarians of today.

Imagine, walking into a quarian town -- buildings like this, heavy and huge, cold to the touch from the inside. Fingertips sliding over rough stone walls. Speaking, and being understood, but different, a different language, a different dialogue. You call it keleven, they call it kelen, everyone has a good laugh because kelen is a hilarious childhood insult where you're from. The type of ship you serve on might influence your culture, now, but it's all _one_ militarized police. People pick one ship over a nearly identical ship for the lodgings, or the captain, not the culture. It was too easy for people to shuffle around after the Idenna because they were looking for similar politics to their own, they didn't have an independent _culture_ that let them deal with the trauma as a close-knit group.

Tali moves forward to examine the yard.

"--just cracked a safe that's almost as old as your mother, Roun'Marrin, over."

"Watch your mouth, Laah'Kitt, or I'll watch it for you--"

"Break-break--"

"You _wish--_ "

" _\--break-break-break,_ OP-2 this is Myrr'Jorin, we've got a geth ship incoming, do you copy? Over!"

"This is Kal'Reegar, I read you, Myrr'Jorin. What's the status at the LZ? Over."

Nothing.

"Squad Leader Kal'Reegar speaking. Myrr, do you copy--"

Back behind the first bunker, the geth dropship appears, hovering. The ground shakes, Tali thinks she hears an explosion from OP-1's general direction.

"Damn it--"

"Project Leader Tali'Zorah," she calls, breaking out the other side to scan the battlefield. Three obvious paths, only one in the shade. "I'm making a break for the observatory. OP-1, get the scientists to safety, over."

The dropship moves along toward OP-2 and Tali's already dashing along the raised platform to the right, keeping to the shadows as her shield generators beg for mercy.

"This is Breyr'Na of OP-1, that won't be possible, Tali'Zorah. Suggest you hold your position and wait for backup, over."

"Negative!" She vaults over a crate, sliding on her hip. The athletics make it slightly more difficult to use a handheld radio, but not by much. "This might be our only shot at the observatory!"

"You heard her, OP-2," and that's Kal's voice-- right behind her, rifle drawn, pointed toward the dropship with one hand as he speaks into the other. "Get us some cover fire!"

Kal's men pour out into the front of the courtyard, and _that's_ when the Colossus drops in front of Tali, shaking the ground. She doesn't have time to panic about it -- _this has happened before,_ she thinks, at that rigged distress signal back in 2183, and there were _three more_ that time. One is _easy_. While it unfolds itself, Tali skirts around the edge of the catwalk, hopping over a set of crates to get to the other side and back around into the shade. Kal follows smoothly, downing a freshly-landed trooper the instant it rounds the corner from the other side.

"--reak-break---Reegar-- ----OP-1-- geth-------- LZ, over!"

"Say again," calls Kal, and Tali hears a rocket make impact with _something_. How did this all go bad so fast? How did the geth notice them during the daytime?

"--geth-- base camp, breaking through the------ scientists-- you read? Over."

"Can't read you, marine--"

"Break-break," Tali calls, shooting another geth right in the optics as it turns the corner. "Tali'Zorah speaking. In the observatory, facility comms available, sending Kal back to the choke point. Hold your positions, over and out!"

"Keelah se'lai," Kal calls to her with a nod, and he turns to circle back around the other way, over the other walkway. As Tali hits the locking mechanism inside the observatory, a single shot takes out her handheld radio through the gap in the door.

_Well, that's not ideal._

* * *

The sounds outside are _not_ encouraging. Her therapist might even refer to it as a 'hostile working environment'.

Tali can feel the ground shake as the Colossus bunkers down right in front of her door, and _that's_ going to be a problem, absolutely. She's downloading data as fast as possible, but every minute or so, a geth breaks through her hack on the door. Her best guess as to why the door hasn't broken down yet is that the Colossus _too damned tall_ to shoot at her while she's in here, which is a blessed little miracle, but it's getting exhausting running from the console to cover, killing a geth trooper, dashing to the door and having to invent a brand new lock on the spot so she can get back to work.

For a little while, the sound of gunfire outside completely stops.

Is she trapped in here?

Is she just going to be stuck here forever, with this stupid data?

_Maybe Admiral Koris was right. Is this worth the risk?_

Tali hears a rocket sound off toward her location, and after about a minute, another one.

" _Keelah,_ " she breathes. _Someone's still out there._ Suit comms are a long shot, but anything's better than doing this in silence. "Anyone still alive? Respond if you read me, over."

Nothing.

"Break-break-break, anyone out there? Please respond, over."

The door opens again. Tali turns on her heel to hack the intruding geth, makes it lock the door behind itself, then delivers a swift three shots to the optics when it turns back around. This is getting old, fast.

Think, think. What _else_ is in this room? _Comms_ , facility comms. To the other buildings. She probably can't get in contact with whoever's firing those rockets, but if she can select the right building from the holographic map and--

"OP-1, this is Project Leader Tali'Zorah. Please respond, over."

Nothing, there.

"Mya'Valus, sound off. Do you copy? Deh'Tanna vas Moreh?"

Nothing.

"Tali'Zorah to base camp, come in base camp."

Dead air. Something needs to change. Somebody needs to be alive.

" _Hello?_ Is anyone there?"

"Tali, it's Shepard."

" _Shepard?_ " Tali brushes a hand back over her shawl. _That's_ a lot to process. "I'm not _complaining_ , but you show up at the strangest times! What are you doing in the middle of geth space?"

"I was in the neighborhood, I thought you might need a hand."

She smiles in spite of herself.

"Thanks for coming, Shepard. It means a lot to hear your voice." _What? What's that supposed to mean? You're not attending a Pilgrimage sendoff._ "Kal'Reegar and what's left of the marines got me into the observatory. From where you are, it's through the door and across the field. I got the data I needed and I'm safe for now, but there's a lot of geth outside."

"Is anyone still with you? Or are you alone out there?"

Shepard's only a few meters away, and it's closer than they've been in a month, but it's so _far_. This room feels so small.

"Reegar had a team of marines covering me when I ran for the observatory. At least... _some_ of them are still alive. I can hear them firing at the geth outside."

A moment of quiet.

"It looks like somebody sealed the door against the geth, and the console is damaged. Can you get it open on your end?"

_Oh, OP-1..._

Including the science team, that was a solid twenty quarians. If Shepard's answering her instead of one of them...

This one's _her_ fault. They _listened_ to her.

"Let me see..." 

_Keep it together. It's going to be okay._

Breathe out. Look at this console, pay attention. She fumbles with the locking mechanisms over base camp's interface.

"Yes, I can do it. Here, should be unlocked now." From the way the ground rumbles, the Colossus outside just got a rocket directly to the optics. "Be careful, Shepard. And please, do what you can to keep Reegar alive."

Tali ends the transmission, returning to her data gathering. OP-1 is gone, there's no way they finished collecting their half of the data. She's finished downloading the archival copies of old readings, but if this observatory still _works_ , she can collect data on the current state of the sun while she waits.

Perfect. Something to do.

* * *

The sound of gunshots picks up outside, but the rockets aren't coming anymore.

An explosion rocks the observatory and Tali steadies herself against the console.

No sound at all, now. When the door comes open, she's had time to herself. She knows everyone's dead. Her mission, her project -- everyone died, and she's going to get to live, and maybe even lead another project someday. Maybe _next_ time the Admiralty Board will have her bring three dozen men to fly straight into Ploba.

"Just let me finish this download," Tali says, fingers dancing over the interface. Dancing is too energetic a term. If they were kinetic keys, she'd just be tapping them. Shepard gives her a moment, but when she approaches, Tali sighs out and straightens up, closing her eyes. "Thank you, Shepard. If not for you, I would have never made it out of this room."

When she turns, Garrus is there, too.

Well!

_Well._

There's a very rounded looking krogan, also, but that's less shocking than Garrus with half of his face covered in gauze. He's staring at her a little more intensely than she remembers he _used_ to, and it's... not a great feeling. Like he's already judging her for this mess.

_Better not to stare. Keep talking, keep talking--_

"This whole mission has been a disaster. I wish I could have joined you on Freedom's Progress, but..." _I didn't trust you, and I had my own men to take care of._ "...I couldn't let anybody take my place on something this risky."

"A lot of quarians lost their lives here," Shepard says, and Tali notices that those open wounds on her face are gone. "Was it worth it?"

Tali just shakes her head again, a stabbing sensation in her stomach. This was so _useless_. Koris was right. What can they even do with these readings? The Migrant Fleet will collapse within the century, what kind of resources do they have floating around to build some gargantuan device to stabilize an _entire star?_

_They wouldn't just send us to die. Koris is wrong._

"I don't know, Shepard. It wasn't my call." A deep breath. Take it, internalize it, believe it. "The Admiralty Board believed the information here was worth sacrificing all our lives for. I have to believe they know what's best."

Shepard's brows draw together slightly at that and she shifts her weight from one leg to the other. Tali can't remember what that means, after all this time.

"I didn't ask what some admiral thought. I asked what _you_ thought."

"A lot of people died here," she snaps, and it almost scares her how quickly that feeling bubbles back to the surface. "Some of them were my friends. _All_ of them were good at their jobs." Tali feels her face crunch up, her body feels like there's something trying to push her ribs toward each other until her back snaps. Everyone on this mission -- Kal, Roun, Mya. It was hard to work with her at first, but she was from her father's ship. They got _close_. She was _smart_. And Kal's family is practically a legend on the fleet. She got the Reegar's only son _killed?_ "That damn data better be worth it. The price was too high."

"Whatever the reason, I'm glad I could help," Shepard says, gently ending the topic. Tali's glad she doesn't have to dwell on it anymore. "Once you deliver that data, I could use you on the Normandy."

Something in her wants to snap. There's something so relieving about the offer, after not getting it last time.

It's disgusting, it's selfish. She doesn't want to go home and face her captain.

"I promised to see this mission through," Tali reasons, grinding her teeth a little. She raises a hand out, eyes low to the ground as she passes Shepard and approaches the door. "I did. I can leave with you and send the data to the fleet. And if the admirals have a problem with it, they can go to hell. I just watched the rest of my team die."

"Maybe not the whole rest of your team, ma'am."

When she raises her head, Kal is there -- half doubled over, holding his forearm to his chest to steady himself, but alive and stable. Relief floods her and a pound of tension disappears from her shoulders.

" _Reegar._ You made it."

"Your old captain's as good as you said," he says, and a little admiration colors the exhaustion that otherwise seeps out of him. "Damn Colossus never stood a chance."

"If need be, the Normandy can get you out of here, Reegar," Shepard offers, arms tight behind her back.

"The geth didn't damage our ship," he says, and that's true, at least. The Yatarkaai can get him out of here safely; if more geth haven't come by now, they're probably not coming. Even their signals can't break free of Haestrom's surface. "Long as we get out of here before reinforcements show up, we'll be fine."

_Our, we, we._

_Oh._

This feels even worse than just leaving to escape the Admiralty Board, but she already said she'd leave with Shepard. Tali touches her hands together, folding them tightly.

"Actually, I won't be going with you. I'm joining Commander Shepard."

Kal shrugs exactly one shoulder.

"I'll pass the data to the Admiralty Board and let them know what happened," he says, like it's not even a problem. Amicable, and _instant_. Prazza would have shot her in the gut right that second. "She's all yours now, Shepard. Keep her safe."

"Will do, Reegar," Shepard promises, shaking his hand. "I take good care of my people."


	22. Attribution Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali meets a few of Shepard's motley crew and acclimates to the SR-2.

The shuttle touches down and Shepard's ground team gets on, wordlessly. Whether or not she's excited to be with Shepard again, it's hard for Tali to shake that she's leaving so many dead quarians behind. Their families won't be able to view their bodies. They'll never get a dust ceremony.

"So," Shepard begins as the shuttle lifts off. "There's some protocol on the new Normandy you'll have to go through before you can get yourself all set up. You'll need to meet with my yeoman, and the scientist we've recruited for the mission is going to want to take a biometric scan and ask about your medical history."

"I'd just get it over with as soon as you can." Garrus is looking out the window when he says it, down at the bleak, sun-bleached landscape of Haestrom. "They'll hunt you down if you try to avoid checking in."

"Thanks for the advice," Tali says, hooking one foot behind her ankle. On Freedom's Progress, working with Shepard again had come as quickly as hacking a lock. Now Garrus is here, too, and it should feel riding back in the Mako, but... there's a directionless tension, even aside from the personal loss she just experienced. "How has your mission gone, so far?"

Garrus doesn't turn his head, but Tali notices how his eyes dart to Shepard. She raises her shoulders a little, breathes out. 

"We interrupted a Collector attack on Horizon, but we didn't get there fast enough to save them all. Half of the colony was taken, over three hundred thousand people."

Tali delicately places her hand on Shepard's knee, bending a little to make her best approximation of eye contact.

"I'm sure you did everything you could, Shepard."

"She did. Shepard _saved_ over three hundred thousand people." Garrus crosses his arms as he looks back at the human. "It just means we fight harder for the ones that made it."

"Shepard always fights her hardest," the krogan snorts. His eyes are an unnerving shade of bright blue when they flick over to Tali. "It's the rest of you who need to catch up."

* * *

"Hi, you must be Tali," says a woman with short, orange hair as they step off the shuttle. She's wearing black, grey, and white Cerberus fatigues with that yellow logo on her arm; her eyes seem intelligent, and she's smiling. "I'm Yeoman Kelly Chambers. Do you have a minute to talk?"

"Don't accost my crew, Kelly, we've been over this." Shepard gently bumps her shoulder against the yeoman's arm as she passes, but her voice is fond enough that the gesture seems friendly. "Tali's been through a lot, today."

"Of course, Commander," Kelly says, backing away from the shuttle. Garrus isn't reacting with hostility, and if Shepard doesn't mind her, she's probably safe enough to talk to. "I work in the CIC by the galaxy map. If you ever need a friendly ear, I'm here to listen."

* * *

"Biometric scans _necessary_ to account for entire crew's potential responses to future experiments," Mordin explains, stepping around the room and gesturing a lot with his hands. "Need to ensure potential bioweapons against Collectors not dangerous to ground team - airborne viruses, mixed gas grenades, neurotoxins." He closes his eyes and takes a deep, loud breath. "Various _other_ methods. Will need suit diagnostics, model of air filters, also."

There's a soft whirr in his legs as he paces, and to her, it's distracting. Would anyone hear it if they didn't expect to?

Though elegant, the prostheses of Mordin's lower body seem to embrace their inorganic nature with large, circular joints at the back of each leg and ankle. Tali suspects his organic legs end _just_ below the knees. The hands are dead silent, but she knows enough to know they're not organic, either. The plating of his fingertips could be mistaken for protective gloves to increase and protect against kinetic force, but they're far beyond civilian standards for hand protection, and he doesn't seem to armor the rest of his body. In addition to that, he doesn't _seem_ like the type of person who prioritizes melee combat on a battlefield. She hasn't seen him in action, yet. Perhaps that's a surface judgement.

Cloned limbs are so easy to come by these days, it's very unusual to see someone with a permanent synthetic limb, much less _four_ of them. _Four_ synthetic limbs might suggest a choice to give up tactile sensation for protection against pain, but the scarring on his face and broken horn suggest a violent history, a long life. It's just as likely he blew himself up in a lab somewhere as _chose_ to mod his body like a pistol.

"Patient consent necessary to begin scan." Mordin sniffs to get her attention, interrupting her visual review of his whole... everything. Tali had expected a Cerberus scientist, not a salarian. She's still processing. " _Ethically_ necessary. Understand distrust of Cerberus, however: scans ordered by Shepard, prerequisite of combat clearance. Have cultures to get back to. Would prefer to _finish_ scan, move on with day. Still need to review suit processes, administer personalized medical survey. Responsible course of action with quarian patient; categorically immunocompromised, more delicacy, more paperwork. With permission, will forward documentation to med bay. Crew doctor educated, personable." He takes a deep breath again, eyes flicking to Tali. "Not busy."

"Go ahead, doctor," Tali agrees, watching his hands as he talks.

_Where do the augmentations begin? It's gorgeous work._

"Scan finished," Mordin announces before she even notices, looming tall over her as he bends to check the omni-tool readout. "Good health unusual in quarians. Pleasantly surprised by strong vital signs, heart rate. Suspect blood pressure is result of long-term stress, not fear of doctors. Have also examined suit processes, generated short survey. Ready?"

"Alright, Mordin." Tali crosses her arms, leaning slightly to one side. She wonders whether he's caffeinated, or if he's just always like this. "Go ahead."

"Any accidental exposure to contaminants outside flotilla?"

"No."

"Any exposure to environments aside from clean rooms, medical and hygienic?"

"No."

"Understood." He taps at his omni-tool. "Full name suggests presence on Rayya during 2175 respiratory plague and subsequent quarantine. Survivor?"

"I never had it," Tali provides, quietly. "A family member did. How do you know about that?"

"Events on flotilla unlikely to earn spot in galactic news. Still, community far from insular." Mordin glances at her. "Have my sources. Stay informed. Flotilla one child policy, lowered voice indicates personal loss, father still alive - only reasonable conclusion: mother contracted plague, passed away. Will note potential hereditary susceptibility to viruses in that strain." He pauses, and Tali's trying to keep up with this bombardment of information -- the lack of privacy, his apparent intimate knowledge of her family and personal history.

"How do you know my father is still alive?"

"Admiral Zorah's ability to cure plague _lauded_ by STG, admirable work." He pauses, smiles. "Admiral-able. Sexual activity?"

_What?_

"I don't--!" Tali gestures widely with her hands, as if trying to fan this whole conversation away.

" _Strictly_ confidential," Mordin insists, as if _that's_ the problem, placing a hand over his heart. "Only have the best interests of shipwide health at heart. Example: scale itch recently appeared aboard Normandy, troubling implications for all crew members, even quarian. Need to have all possible data to find safe dispersal method for treatment, vaccination. Simple 'no' will suffice, but may have additional questions if yes."

" _No,_ " Tali says, digging her fingers into her upper arms.

"Saw stimulation program, have to be certain. Intimate relationship and stress relief programs not always mutually exclusive."

"I'm not-- no!" Tali bites on her inner cheek, face hot. This conversation is like doing donuts in a shuttle with no artificial gravity. She feels sick and confused.

"Certain of sincerity, but hoping anyway that answer is not born of aversion to unwelcome questions," Mordin says, and his tone is _playful._ "Luckily, final question. Examination concluded. Have forwarded patient information to med bay. Thank you for cooperating, Tali'Zorah. Look forward to working with you."

The Collectors don't need to bother. She'll die _right_ here, thanks.

* * *

"I'm glad you were willing to talk so soon, Tali," Kelly says, sitting down at the conference table. "In the interest of keeping things out in the open, I want to disclose that the conference room also houses the QEC that connects directly to the Illusive Man, and that EDI can also hear us. The QEC won't send data without the CO or XO in the room, though, and EDI can hear us anywhere on the ship."

"The conference room is the only location inside of the Normandy with biometric sensors in place to deter Kasumi from attempting to eavesdrop in close quarters," EDI says. "It is the safest room on the ship for private discussion, aside from Shepard's quarters."

"Thank you, EDI," Kelly says, warmly, as if EDI is welcome in the conversation. 

"I see." Tali hasn't forgotten that the vessel is Cerberus, but the reminders of the organization's leadership and the on-board artificial intelligence aren't strictly _fantastic_ to think about. She will just have to take extra care to avoid talking about anything meaningful. "Thank you for telling me."

"Of course!" Kelly is a very bright person, her mouth and eyes match her light hair, hands folded in front of her. "Is there anything on your mind?"

"Aside from my run-in with the doctor..."

Kelly tilts her head to one side, a friendly, understanding look on her face.

"Salarians as a species are interpersonally intelligent, they have all sorts of verbal and facial tics you and I couldn't even begin to imagine. Mordin has a lot of energy, but I suspect he puts more of it into his work than his social life. It's not unusual for our crew members to find his speech patterns a little overwhelming the first time they meet with him."

"Is he _always_ like that?"

"Productive?" Kelly gives a knowing smile, and they both know she doesn't mean _productive_. "Yes, ever since he's joined the team."

"Your team," Tali says, leaning back in her chair. "You seem nice, but you _must_ know about what this organization has done in the past. Militarizing rachni, Thorian creepers..."

"Of course." Kelly's smile fades a little, but she doesn't exactly frown, either. She seems to think for a moment before she speaks. "Though the Lazarus Project is the only cell in Cerberus that I've ever been a part of, I don't believe Cerberus has bad goals. Historical record of the Rachni Wars didn't reflect how intelligent the rachni actually were, and Thorian creepers were only ever meant to be used as a way of keeping humans from dying in the field. Could you imagine the number of lives Cerberus could have saved in the Skyllian Verge if a wave of those Thorian creepers were sent out to meet batarian raiders? How many families could be spared a funeral?"

"They didn't take the proper precautions," Tali retorts, arms crossed. "They got their teams killed because they underestimated their subjects. Over and over again, they were overpowered and outmatched because their xenophobia and superiority complexes kept them from respecting the things they researched. And imagine if they'd released those things onto the colony worlds _before_ they went crazy!"

"Isn't it sad, though?" Kelly sounds nostalgic, somehow, touching all of her fingertips together. "Coming upon those sites, they must have looked like nothing but failed works of hubris, to you. But the people who worked there... I can't speak for all of them, there will always be bad apples. But if someone offers you a job where you can try to develop ways to protect people... isn't that an attractive prospect? If someone told you that you might be able to use alien plants to save quarian lives, wouldn't you think that was worthwhile?"

Tali bristles. "That's different. They knowingly joined a human supremacist organization. One that's _known_ for xenophobic terrorism."

"Tali," Kelly says, gently. "You also joined Cerberus."

"No," Tali says flatly. "I'm working with Shepard."

"And Shepard is working for Cerberus."

"She's working _with_ Cerberus. Temporarily."

Kelly folds her fingers together. The little rounded flat parts at the end are all clean and polished, short. She's patient, understanding. 

"Have you ever heard of attribution theory?"

Tali shakes her head, staring intently at the hologram of the Normandy that projects above the center of the table.

"The very, very quick version," Kelly continues, "is that people will often judge the actions of others in an different way from how they judge their own actions. Shepard is here because she shares goals with Cerberus, not just because we have resources for her. The way you see it, Shepard is here because she has no other options, and you're just here to help her. So that makes it okay, right?"

"Yes." Tali crosses her legs, tilting her head slightly. Kelly's eyes search her face for an expression, but Tali knows there's nothing there. It makes her feel a little more in control of the situation, at least. "It's not ideal, I'd _prefer_ to be working with Shepard under the Alliance."

"But then, the rest of the humans here, you've decided that we're working here because we're xenophobic, or that we only care about human superiority. Your reason and Shepard's are personal choices influenced by circumstance, but I must be here because I hate aliens. I'm here because of what you perceive as a flaw in my judgement, or morality. Is that right?"

"You're human," Tali says, gesturing with a hand. "You may not hate aliens outright, but you can afford to ignore what Cerberus _is_. You won't believe they'll hurt you until they do, and by then, it will be too late. You'll be dead, and Cerberus won't spare a second thought."

"Maybe. But that's okay."

Tali looks at Kelly; the human's leaning back a little, her fingers folded together, wrists on the conference table. There's something so _alien_ about her open expression -- it's intriguing, all of the humans that Tali has gotten to know have been military. When they did finally let their walls down, they were crass: dark humor, fatalistic jokes, jeering about their past superiors. Kelly's the first human Tali has really spoken to who really seems _soft_ , like a civilian. She seems like someone who lives in a nice apartment on the Citadel, where everything is shiny and the air is clean. Someone with a desk job she loves and a fish tank waiting for her at home.

"Everyone here knew before they joined the Lazarus Cell that we would be working with aliens," Kelly finally says, after a few moments. "I was excited about it, and I still am. There's so much we can learn about ourselves when we learn about each other. And... we all know that we might die. The last time the Normandy made the news was when it was destroyed, and this mission pits us against a _much_ more advanced enemy than the geth. Each and every person on this ship agreed to work with aliens, and all of us put our lives on the line to do what we can, to save colonists and to help Commander Shepard."

She's so earnest. Idealistic. Her dreams of cooperation appeal deeply to Tali's quarian values, she _wants_ to believe her, but--

Tali sighs.

"You aren't going to convince me to trust Cerberus, Kelly."

"You don't need to trust, Cerberus, Tali. I think you trust Shepard, and if that's all you need to be here, then that's okay." She isn't sure whether Kelly reminds her more of her therapist on the Neema, or that one greeter in the Consort's chambers, back on the Presidium. "You seem smart, and you seem to care a lot about people. I don't think it's too soon to say that I like you. I don't know if you can trust me, but I hope we can be friends."

 _Disarming,_ that's a good way to describe her.

It would be nice to get off to a good start, here.

"This is heavy stuff," Tali says, waving her hand to clear the air. "A lot's been going on lately, and I'm going to be here for a while, so we don't have to deal with all of _this_ right now. Let's just talk about... stuff."

"Sure," Kelly agrees, eyes sparkling. "I can talk about stuff."

"You seem like someone who keeps up with 'The Lower Wards' _religiously_."

Kelly claps her hands over her mouth.

"It's a guilty pleasure," she whispers, like it's a dirty secret. "The story treats their characters so _badly_ after 27 seasons, but there's something so morbidly fascinating about watching them all be horrible to each other, never facing consequences..."

"Did you see the latest episode? With Anessa V'Dana and Tartik Elji--"

"--with the curve glider? Is that a real thing on the Citadel?"

"It _is._ "

* * *

Tali can hear Kelly's voice through the comms as she passes from the hall to engineering, pausing to listen. "--was getting coffee, sorry I didn't warn you, but the new engineer is coming down, so be polite!"

She chooses this moment to walk through the door. There's only two engineers down here and they both turn to face her at the sound -- each of them snaps to attention, the woman salutes.

"Engineer Gabriella Daniels," she says, glancing at the other one, smirking a little. "And this is Kenneth."

"That's Engineer _Ken_ Donnelly, actually," he retorts, trying to sneak a _look_ at Tali and failing miserably. He looks back toward her face when she crosses her arms and clears her throat. "But you? You can just call me Ken."

"Good to meet you, Daniels, Donnelly," Tali replies, anything but charmed. 

"He's a good engineer, but kind of a pig. They put me down here to keep him in line and translate his gibberish," says Daniels, nudging him hard with her shoulder. "Just let me know if he's bothering you."

"He won't." Tali bounces up on her toes a little, gleefully smiling where they can't see. "I have a shotgun."

"Damn." Donnelly whistles, but it's not that _offensive_ kind of whistle that humans brought to the galactic consciousness. "Must every woman on this ship pack heat?"

"We've had some upgrades," Daniels says gesturing toward the drive core approach, signalling for Tali to follow. "And by that, I obviously mean Cerberus had to rebuild the ship from scratch. The core is twice as big, so the ship has to be bigger to accommodate. The SR-1 used to be able to pull a ground landing, but that's not really possible with this young lady. The SR-1 was a paper tiger, but this baby? She's a brick house." The human slaps the railing between here and the core fondly, smiling as she runs her palm over it. It reminds Tali of when Shepard was gushing about the stealth drive when she first boarded the Normandy -- she decides _instantly_ that she likes Daniels. "She's heavy, but she's fast, and I think she can take a punch. Not a lot of punches, though."

"We still need those T6-FBA couplings," Donnelly calls from the main area.

"Shepard's working on it," Daniels calls back, shaking her head as she meets eyes with Tali. The exasperation on her face says something like _can you believe this guy?_ "I'm telling you, next time we hit Omega? They'll be installed before we leave port."

"I want to believe," Donnelly says, sighing dramatically. "Truly, I do. But I got word from Jennifer in the CIC that we're detouring to Bekenstein so Shepard can go to a party."

"Smart money's on Daniels," Tali interjects, gesturing with her head for Daniels to come back to the main consoles. "Shepard doesn't leave things half done."

* * *

> **Subject: Project Haestrom Mission Report [URGENT] (2 attachments)**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Mission Report: Project Haestrom  
> Authorization: Admiralty Board
> 
> Mission Leader: Tali'Zorah vas Neema  
> Squad Leader: Kal'Reegar vas Neema
> 
> Admiral Han'Gerrel,
> 
> Both past and present energy readings from Dholen have been recovered from the observatory on Haestrom. Excluding myself and Kal'Reegar vas Neema, every marine and scientist on the mission was killed by the geth. Our survival and the retrieval of this data was only made possible by another intervention by Commander Shepard, and in return for her assistance, I have agreed to accompany her on her mission to take down the Collectors. In addition to delivering this data, the purpose of this message is to formally request a temporary transfer to the Normandy SR-2 under the command of Captain Shepard vas Normandy.
> 
> Tali'Zorah vas Neema
> 
> [Attachments: 46.3T Dholen_1890_1896, 0.9T Dholen_2186]

* * *

"Tali... _Tali..._ " The instant she sends the email, local comms open on her terminal. " _Tali..._ I can't believe you. You were up here for a full hour talking to Chambers, but you didn't come see your favorite pilot? Cold. Ice cold. You've changed."

"Joker!" Tali bounces, beaming, fingers curled over the console. "I didn't know you were here! I should have guessed, I mean, _obviously,_ you would be here, it's _Shepard_ and the Normandy--"

"Shepard didn't tell you I was here? I mean, _ouch?_ I guess that hurts my feelings a little?" It's so good to hear his voice. She's still not sure she's ready to brave the crew deck, but the past two hours have been mostly good news -- Shepard's alive, her yeoman has a heart, there are other aliens working on this ship, the Normandy's new drive core is beautiful, and now? Joker's here, too.

Tali's excitement is full-body, and then she remembers. Pauses.

"But..."

"Uh oh. But? Did I do something to piss you off that I didn't know about? I'd believe it, you know."

"I heard... well." Maybe it's not a good idea to bring up the vids she'd seen. He's had long enough to get over them. "I'm glad you recovered. I had to stop reading the news."

Silence. One, two, three seconds.

"Yeah." He sighs, and the comms pick it up. "I take it you heard I got grounded, but you know. I got better." Another pause. "On the bright side, Shepard's crew _this_ go around is too busy brooding to be drunk all the time, so I feel more like an actual pilot and less like a designated driver! The little perks of working with Cerberus. Bad side, every new person that she picks up is a loose cannon who might shoot me."

"I'm glad you're making new friends, Joker. We always did say you should get out more." It's actually really nice to talk like this -- the old Normandy didn't have built in console comms like this; everybody but Joker just had to get by with instant messages and emails on the omni-tool, or just walk around to talk. It didn't seem primitive then, but now... "I noticed that Chief Engineer Adams isn't here."

Joker goes quiet another few seconds.

"Yeah, uh... he... you know." Some of that carefree cadence he has is gone. "He has principles, I guess, unlike the rest of us sorry bastards, chasing after Shepard like lost dogs looking for a forever home. And after what happened to Pressly... they were close. Bet he'd be having a field day with the new stealth drive. And _Pressly_ would be having a field day freaking out about the baby krogan on the engineering deck. _Commander, the Alliance has strict regulations about bringing explosives aboard a starship, and that thing is a ticking time bomb!_ "

"Baby krogan?"

"Yeah! You met Grunt, right? Not so good with words, likes to smash things? It's kind of the only thing he knows about himself, kinda sad."

"He doesn't _look_ like a baby."

"Details, details. Ask Shepard about it sometime." A pause, an irritated sigh. "Alright, Tali, this AI is flooding my inbox with warnings about 'snooping through your keystrokes' and 'gross misuse of administrator privilege' and 'immediate termination', so I should probably get going before it opens the airlock and sucks me out into the vacuum."

Tali snorts, leaning back a little.

"Don't let it bully you, Joker."

"Oh, trust me, I'm not letting it. Make sure to check in with Chakwas. She'll take it _way_ more personally than I did if you don't check in."

" _Chakwas_ is here?"

"Gotta go, bye!"

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Fw: Project Haestrom Mission Report [URGENT]  
>  From: Rael'Zorah vas Alarei**
> 
> Tali'Zorah,
> 
> Your request for transfer to the Normandy has been approved by the Admiralty Board. We expect you to fully conduct yourself with the best intentions of the Migrant Fleet in mind, and be prepared to take on additional duties for the Fleet during your time on the Normandy.
> 
> Do us proud.
> 
> Admiral Rael'Zorah vas Alarei


	23. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali gets a slightly more friendly welcome to the SR-2. Shepard goes to a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried something a little different with this chapter, so let me know in the comments if the image in the second email loads or not! It's worked for my previews so far, but I don't want to just depend on what I can see on my own computer.

When Shepard comes to check on Tali in transit, she's wearing a shiny black dress that ends just above the knees, and a pair of heels to match. She stands awkwardly on her toes, putting all of her weight on them so the heels don't fall through the grates in the floor. She looks incredibly out of place.

"Wonder if turians feel this awkward when they're walking around." Shepard sidles up to Tali's side to lean on the console, supporting her weight on an elbow. Her hair is done up like she's a newscaster, makeup painted on to make her eyelashes dark and her lips shiny. Something on her chest glitters, slightly, in the low light, and Tali discovers rather accidentally that in addition to the body glitter, there are freckles there, too. Shepard can't tell where her eyes are, but she shouldn't stare. Donnelly's already doing that.

Tali clears her throat.

"You look... different." Donnelly had said something about a party, right?

"Kasumi put me in this getup for a mission. Then Miranda said I looked too much like Shepard so... here I am." Shepard screws up her mouth a little, looking up at Tali. This Miranda must have put something on her cheeks and nose to mask her freckles. "Is it bad?"

"No!" Tali waves her hands dismissively. "No, it's just... different! If this wasn't your ship, I wouldn't have guessed it was you."

Shepard seems to relax a little at that. It must be hard, having the most memorable human face in the galaxy. As soon as Tali wrecked the suit she wore during the Battle of the Citadel, strangers had stopped recognizing her during trading negotiations for the Migrant Fleet. It was simultaneously humbling and annoying.

"I was going to check in with you before I got dressed for Bekenstein, but your meeting with Chambers went long. She told me she likes you." Shepard's teasing her, she thinks, but it's alright. "What do you think? Are you going to be sleeping with your eyes open?"

"Well, maybe just one eye." Tali glances over to the other engineers, then leans in to whisper. "When we blow Cerberus up, can we take Engineer Daniels?"

Shepard turns to look at them both outright, staring down Donnelly while he pretends to be busy. Daniels got back to work immediately after she initially punched Donnelly in the side for gaping at the commander.

"I can probably swing a few more than just Daniels," Shepard mutters back, affectionately ruffling the shawl on Tali's head as she leans back toward the door. "I should get to the shuttle, but let's catch up before the next time I take you out on a mission. It's good to have you back."

"It's good to _be_ back, Shepard."

* * *

Tali creeps into the lounge, which Daniels subtly suggested might house a bar. _Just in case,_ she'd said. It's empty at the moment, but someone is obviously living here; a cot is made up toward the back, there's a vase full of alien flowers, a pair of expensive-looking paintings hang on the walls. The huge window is calling, and she takes a moment to look out at Bekenstein down below -- a thriving, industrial planet. Green, blue, and swimming with clouds. They call it humanity's Illium, home to humanity's _nouveau riche_ , where the mansions are built on the backs of the poor. It's no different from anywhere else, in reality; just more expensive.

Tali turns back toward the bar, though: _that's_ her prize. It's small, but she can't expect more on a ship of this size: the Rayya had a decently sized dedicated bar on it, but the Neema doesn't, you have to order your own alcohol from a liveship. You find work in the Heavy Fleet if you expect to drink alone, and in the Civilian Fleet if you expect to drink with friends. Her father has always been a harsh critic of recreational intoxication: _it promotes dullness of mind and demands you to relinquish control of your thoughts,_ he'd say with a distant, academic disdain. Back when her mother was alive, he'd sit there while Han and Shala drank, holding his tongue, but later on, he always told her to be better than that. _People are not lesser for indulging,_ he'd say, sniffing, _but they would have so much more to offer if they didn't._

In the wake of Hanya's death, watching Shala deteriorate had frightened her off of it for good. Her aunt was a perfect admiral during the day, but when she'd hitch a ride on the grain shuttle from the Tonbay to the Rayya, she'd spend the rest of the night in a near daze while Tali sat there, trying to hold her attention. She'd thought about drinking, after Shepard had... disappeared, reading that leak about all the terrible injuries Joker had sustained, but she couldn't do it. She hid the whiskey under her bed and never touched it.

That was 2183. Her friend had died, and several other people she knew well, but it was _far_ away. She was insulated against the pain, surrounded by a peaceful flotilla, a doting aunt, a captain who noticed when she went off her game. Today, eighteen quarians lie dead on Haestrom, their bodies baking under the fucked up 'scientifically fascinating' sun while the geth crawl around with no consequences. Remorseless.

Tali squeezes behind the bar, looking at what's on offer -- levo wine made from something called cherries, something else called vodka. The beer isn't on display, it must be stored out of sight -- it wouldn't look as good on a shelf, with the light pouring through it. One of these is a spicy asari whiskey she'd seen once in a semiexplicit vid when she was a teenager -- her nanny almost caught her, and she had fried the display frame for the film so she wouldn't get caught.

_Dextro, dextro..._

"Bottom right, the light purple one."

Her shoulders jump up with guilt as she turns around to see Garrus, leaning in the doorway. He has to bend his head slightly to do it; a _tall_ human would be about a foot shorter than him.

"Garrus..."

"Triple filtered turian brandy, unopened. When Shepard told me you might be joining us, I..." He looks down to the ground, gently tilting his head from one side to another, as if debating what to say. "I suggested we pick it up. Recruiting people for this mission has included pretty unpleasant circumstances about... 67% of the time. Rounded up. Thought you might need it."

Tali's fingers are woven together, and Garrus has always been significantly taller than her, but she's never really felt smaller than him before. She's grateful for the helmet; she can't stop looking at that scar on his face. He seems to scratch at the ground idly with a foot before he looks up at her again, clearing his throat, awkwardly. "Uh... permission to board, Tali?"

"Right," she says, broken from the trance. "Right, yes, uh. Permission-- granted? Permission granted. Sit down," and she slaps her hand on the bar for him to take a seat there. His mandibles flicker with amusement, but then he winces. Tali feels guilty for thinking it, but his smirk always pulled left, anyway. Things could be worse. He rolls his shoulders when he sits, dropping his elbows on the bar with a hum.

"I thought I might find you here," he says, sighing. "But I didn't think you'd already be here when I came in. I had this whole dramatic thing planned out, EDI and I did a lighting test and everything."

Tali snorts, leaning on her side of the counter. The lounge is built better to scale for a tall quarian than a tall turian. "I thought you were ignoring me."

"Of _course_ not. You seemed like you... needed a minute." Garrus tracks the brandy with his eyes -- Tali still hasn't opened it, and now she just sets it on the counter so he'll stop staring. "Are we... alright, Tali?"

"Of course we are, Garrus." She leans her forearms heavily into the bar, bouncing one leg behind the slab where he can't see. "Why?"

"Just... reevaluating some things, after Horizon." He sighs, hooks his knee under the lip of the bar so he can lean back without falling. "Kaidan was there, trying to help the colonists set up an AA gun. The Collectors didn't get him, but... words were said, about Shepard's absence. It was _not_ a great experience to be there."

"Oh," says Tali, and that effectively tables the _are we picking up Kaidan?_ question, permanently. "Because of Cerberus?"

"Yeah," he says. He looks... really tired, like he's been up for a week on nothing but caffeine and stims. His mandible twitches with his upper lip, and she can feel the poison threatening to bubble out when he speaks. "I can understand it, and... I'm not about to make it harder for Shepard, but it pisses me off, quite frankly. Acting like he's morally superior just because he's fighting Collectors over there and we're fighting Collectors over here. What _difference_ does it make, if we're making a difference?"

Tali isn't sure what to say. She would have denied Shepard for similar reasons, if she'd asked back on Freedom's Progress.

"Maybe Kelly should talk to him about attribution theory."

Garrus laughs, but it's more subdued than she remembers it -- maybe just to keep from being in too much pain.

"She gave you that little speech too, huh? Sounds like a load of shit to me, personally, but hey, what do I know. I just shoot things."

Tali reaches a hand across the bar to cover his, tilting her head to convey the concerned frown on her face that he can't see.

"Garrus, what happened to you?"

"A lot." A pause. "Are you going to drink that?"

"Probably not." She pauses, too. "Are you?"

"Have to stay sharp."

Tali puts it away, pours a glass of water for Garrus. She crouches down to look through the chilling unit.

"EDI," calls Garrus, leaning his hand into the good side of his face. "Is the tap water on the Normandy safe for Tali to drink?"

"The Normandy's water filtration processes and equipment were upgraded to the most up-to-date quarian standards upon the addition of your dossier, Officer Vakarian. This was done several months ago, before the first launch of the SR-2."

Garrus gestures emphatically at the projection as the AI deactivates and Tali ignores it, rifling her way to the back of the unit, past the levo beer. There.

_All the canned water's in the back, so it may be a little frozen on the one side. Sorry._

Tali's chest hurts for a second, but she isn't sure why. She clears her throat as she stands up, flicking the tab open and setting the can on the counter. "I'm not entrusting my life to the promises of an AI, Garrus."

"EDI's _shackled_. It's harmless."

"It's Cerberus," she says, flatly. "It's not capable of being anything else. Cerberus humans, maybe I can get used to. A Cerberus AI? The two worst things in existence? Never."

"The straws are behind you," Garrus supplies, tilting his head back to throw his entire cup of water at the back of his throat. Turians are the only known species in this galaxy that has to drink _everything_ like that, like they're a bunch of soldiers doing shots. "And I figure if Joker can get over it, we've got bigger issues on our plates."

"Heh. Plates." Garrus tilts his head heavily to one side to indicate his disapproval of the joke, but Tali just snickers, bringing her canned water around to sit with him.

They sit in silence for a little while, Garrus just leans down to refill his water at the sink, and his arms are long enough to do it. It's far and away from sitting at the tables on the SR-1. They're the only ones left from those card games, still following Shepard.

"I didn't take you for much of a drinker, back in the old days," Garrus says, finally. He sets his glass down in the sink. "Did that change?"

"It's just something new I was going to try." Tali sighs into her straw, then realizes she can blow bubbles in her water, doing so immediately.

"Well... if you try again, don't do it alone." Garrus pulls up his omni-tool, tapping something out. She receives a message moments later with two small files: one labeled Z, the other labeled J. "Those are Zaeed and Jacob's approximate ship schedules," he continues, shrugging an arm like this is normal information to have. "Zaeed comes in here to drink when Shepard goes off duty, and Jacob's workout routine is on there, too."

"Jacob works out in the lounge?"

Garrus snorts, tilting his head back toward the sectional couch behind them. "No, Jacob works out in the armory. Kasumi lives in here, and that's about the only time she _leaves_ the lounge, aside from when she steals food from Gardner. You're lucky she's out with Shepard, or I'd assume she's still here."

"EDI mentioned that the conference room is the only place that can deter her."

"Yeah, it's... she hasn't done anything, yet, but it doesn't help with feeling like the walls have eyes. I don't think Jacob knows that she's using him as a peepshow, but, you know. Whatever guarantees that she's not in the forward battery for a few hours."

"A _few_ hours?"

He chuckles at the disbelief in her voice.

"The man loves his crunches, Tali."

"Oh," Tali remembers. She hooks her ankles around the base of the chair, tapping her toes lightly on the ground. "Did you see Shepard's outfit before she left?"

"Nah. She dropped by after we picked you up to check in with me, so I'm guessing she was wearing something way different when you saw her. Did _you_ see the solid gold statue of our old buddy Saren in the cargo bay?"

* * *

> **Subject: Checking In (1 attachment)**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Auntie Raan,
> 
> I know you didn't see me before I sent in my transfer request, so I just wanted to send you a message and let you know that everything is going fine. I know I'm dealing with Cerberus, so I'm keeping my guard up, but Shepard's here and I won't come to harm under her. Garrus is here too, actually, that turian I told you about. He looks like he got in a staring contest with a hungry klixen -- I'm still trying to figure out what happened there, but I don't think I get to know about that, right now. It's been 2 years since we last talked, so... it will just have to wait, I think.
> 
> The new Normandy is even more incredible than the old one, I've taken the liberty of attaching the new schematics. The drive core is twice the size, now -- I wish you could see it in person. Also, apparently the Normandy is using up-to-date water filtration software and equipment from the flotilla, so if that information isn't publicly available outside of the Migrant Fleet, we may have a leak somewhere. I wouldn't know where to begin looking, however.
> 
> I hope you've been doing well. I miss you so much, and I can't wait to see you when I get back from this mission.
> 
> Tali
> 
> [Attachment: 2.1T Normandy_Schematics]

* * *

Tali tries to write more messages, to the families of the fallen from Haestrom. It doesn't go well. She makes sure she disconnects from the local network while she drafts her work, wary of Joker tracking her keystrokes again. To the parents of-- no. It doesn't work. For every two words she writes, she deletes one: this is too emotional, that's too distant, too clinical, too self-centered. She has to be professional, but she knew these people, she knows their families. She has to be empathetic, but she can't express too much emotion -- she survived, and these sons and daughters of the Migrant Fleet _died_. It's disgusting to even think about sounding sorry, as if they wouldn't be alive if she'd just been smarter, faster, more cautious.

She could have _saved_ them. There's always a way -- she got that data, but _it always matters how you get there._

People died, good people, with loving families and hearts and bright minds and lovers and _children_ and they're dead, because she wasn't careful, quick, _intelligent_ enough to get them out alive.

* * *

> **Subject: [DRAFT] My Condolences**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> [ **[PROGRESS SAVED]** ](https://thebigdilemma.tumblr.com/private/186858431294/tumblr_RIPEfbt8hPi3JBMpr)

* * *

> **[Shepard]** : Do you have a minute just to talk?  
>  **[Shepard]** : I could use a friend. Maybe one that doesn't have a mortal enemy with a gunship and a mansion full of mechs.  
>  **[Shepard]** : On a related note, you haven't gone and gotten a mortal enemy, have you?  
>  **[Shepard]** : You can still come up if you have, but I'll have a loaded gun if the answer is yes.

Tali reviews her email, reviews it again. Her eyes hurt, she feels like she's been awake forever. She saves the draft, sighing.

> **[Tali]** : A mortal enemy? Who has the time for that kind of commitment?  
>  **[Tali]** : Med bay?  
>  **[Shepard]** : Nah, got out early for good behavior. I'm in my quarters, top floor.  
>  **[Tali]** : I'll be right there! Please be decent.  
>  **[Shepard]** : Tali, I'm always decent. That's why I have so many friends.

* * *

EDI tells her that she's arrived in the loft, and it's so... alien, for lack of a better term. For this elevator to go all the way up like this, to such a small, private area for only one person to use. Both Normandys have had crew quarters with bunks, so Tali knows humans are no strangers to close-quarters living, but on the SR-1, the CO's quarters were still on the crew deck, across from the med bay. Now Miranda's office is there, and Shepard has an entire floor to herself.

Tali steps inside the door.

"Hey," says Shepard, back in her fatigues. She's sitting on a sectional couch, drying her hair with a towel, but she finally gives up after a few more seconds, tossing the towel over to her desk. The gloss on her mouth is gone, but the makeup around her eyes isn't quite there yet, all dark and smudged around in the corners, sticking to her lashes. The image reminds Tali of a trade mission to Omega -- she had watched a batarian pluck some kind of fowl in the markets while she waited for her contact to show up, and sometimes, little bits of feather would be stuck in the skin, as jagged and out of place as a broken bone.

"Having a bad day, Shepard?"

Shepard rolls her shoulders, sighing loudly as she drapes her arms over the couch as Tali approaches, selects her seat. "You have no idea. Have you ever fought off a gunship on foot?"

Tali hums sympathetically as she settles down.

"Not recently."

"This was my second one in the last month. How often does this happen? I mean, how often does the average person have to fight off a gunship?"

"I think the average person who faces a gunship on foot usually only faces the one," Tali says, leaning into her part of the couch. It's not particularly comfortable, exactly, but it's stylish. Similar to the SR-2, in that way. "Is that a fish tank, by the way?"

Shepard glances at it, like she's just noticing the empty wall of blue light for the first time. "It is. I don't know if... I don't know. I don't sleep much, lately. Not sure I'd remember to feed fish, if I got them."

"I think you should get some. An empty fish tank is like an empty house. Why have it if you aren't going to use it?"

Shepard snorts at that, running her fingers through her hair. It's darker when it's wet like this, coming together in strings. The light off the tank hits her skin like the SR-1's old drive core, bright blue, bringing out her eyes.

"Alright, but you're giving a eulogy for every single one that dies."

"It'll be something to come back to. Something to make all the gunships worth it."

Shepard takes a deep breath, easing back into the couch. Tali closes her eyes and leans her head back -- it feels so much better already, just closing her eyes. It's not like Shepard can tell, anyway.

It's nice to be back, like this. To know, to be... here, with her, again. The cryptic messages from Freedom's Progress come to mind and Tali sighs, softly.

"Shepard... does your family know you're alive?"

There's complete silence in the cabin, just the bubbles and the soft hum of the water filter.

"Nah," Shepard says after a few seconds. "Probably not."

Tali opens her eyes, tilts her head to look at Shepard. She's pulled her legs up onto the couch, one knee under her chin, like she's resting.

"What's it like? Your family."

Shepard snorts, slips a hand under her hair and drags it all the way over to fall on the other side.

"...I don't know, that's kind of a hard question. Big? Young, and stupid. Getting into trouble all the time. I didn't leave on good terms, and I'm never going back." Tali can't imagine that -- having so many people depending on you, people you've spent your life with, and just... leaving. Packing up your things and going somewhere else, forever. If Tali was ever presumed dead, she would end up individually messaging every single person on the Neema to apologize for scaring them.

Shepard turns toward Tali, leaning far over to push gently at her shoulder.

"I've got all of you to look after now, anyway. And some fish, apparently."

Tali leans away from Shepard to gently kick at her other leg, fondly.

"I'm pretty sure we're the ones looking after _you_ , Shepard."


	24. Illium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali returns to Illium and sees an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for how late this chapter is -- I was already behind schedule writing it, having trouble because of the inherent problematics of canonical dialogue trees, and then my laptop overheated and took 2/3rds of the chapter with it. It's been an unfun experience trying to write everything back up.

> **Subject: Re: Checking In**   
>  **From: Shala'Raan vas Tonbay**
> 
> Tali'Zorah,
> 
> If the new Normandy is as impressive in reality as it is in these schematics, then Commander Shepard must have been desperate to bring you back under her wing. Such advanced technology, I am sure she sleeps better knowing that you are keeping it all running smoothly.
> 
> I will be honest with you Tali, the Admiralty Board is displeased with your decision to elope with Shepard without returning to the flotilla. While you did request leave through the proper channel, some of the admirals felt that in leaving before securing permission, you viewed it merely as a formality, and I am inclined to agree with them. We have decided not to take disciplinary measures at this time, but I beg you to be less impulsive in the future. I love you dearly, but because of that, you know I can't protect you from consequences if you go to trial for your rash behavior. I can't imagine how you must have been feeling on Haestrom, but please, for my sake, take more care in conducting yourself.
> 
> Returning to Shepard, we are all aware of her bravery in 2183, but the fact remains that she is allied with Cerberus at the moment. Regardless of her actions on Freedom's Progress and Haestrom, I beg you to be careful with how much you trust her. Do what you must to fulfill your mission and your promise, but be wary. You are a skilled and useful ally, but pay careful attention to whether that is all you are, in her eyes. Commander Shepard is still an unknown quantity, and you are too dear to lose.
> 
> Never forget what I told you before you left for your Pilgrimage: there are those in the galaxy who would handle your heart with poisoned gloves. Be prepared to defend yourself.
> 
> I am so relieved to hear that you're safe. Please keep in touch.
> 
> With love,
> 
> Shala

* * *

Tali is busy with an interactive Hahne-Kedar product manual when she hears it -- barely audible through the volume in her helmet, she dulls the sound, looks to Donnelly. He's frozen, looking back at the door. It happens again, a loud crashing sound, and this time, a decidedly unfeminine female voice simmers up from the subdeck.

"If someone doesn't shut that thing up, _I will._ "

Despite dwelling on the same deck, Tali hasn't yet had the pleasure of meeting Jack. This first impression hardly invites her to hasten the process.

"You know it's that krogan, right," Daniels mutters to Donnelly. "The boards are green, EDI isn't reporting any issues. It has to be."

"Don't worry, I'll show that overgrown iguana a thing or two," Donnelly says, putting his fists up and cycling them around. Daniels snorts, rolls her eyes. Tali shakes her head and turns to her omni-tool -- she's no hand to hand expert, but he looks like a fool. Shepard can talk down a krogan. She's done it before.

> **[Tali]** : We have a situation down here. The other engineers seem to think it's the krogan?  
>  **[Tali]** : I'd wait to see if he calms down, but Jack is getting testy, so... please let Shepard know when you see her.  
>  **[Kelly]** : Zaeed just brought this to my attention! Thank you for corroborating.   
> **[Kelly]** : She's on her way.

Tali gestures toward the cargo hold and then offers that half-thumb, half-fist gesture that Joker taught her. Donnelly returns it with a grin.

_Good. Communication._

* * *

When Joker announces that the Normandy has docked on Illium, Tali can't help but be bitter. There was no hassle, no wait period -- no traffic control. Shepard or no, this is a _Cerberus_ vessel docking on a world built by asari corporate interests. The four hours traffic control kept the Honorata from docking killed two good men, but a human terrorist organization gets the star treatment?

It makes her sick. 

" _Tali, Garrus, suit up and meet me in the cockpit. You're my shore party._ "

"Way ahead of you, Shepard," Tali responds, with perhaps a bit of sarcasm.

" _Ha,_ " Garrus calls back. " _I get it. Because you're always suited up._ "

" _You're all hilarious,_ " says Joker. " _Save some material for stand-up night._ "

* * *

"Welcome to Nos Astra, Commander Shepard," says a concierge bedecked with an outfit that incorporates more skin above the waist than cloth. Tali has a running theory that asari secretly breathe through their abdomens, wearing these structurally clownish gowns for ease of inhalation. Human women then adopted this style of clothing, mistakenly believing it to be a fashion statement. "We've been instructed to waive all docking and administration fees for your visit."

_How thoughtful._

It's a bitter feeling, and Tali lets it bite into her and cling like a parasite. The LOKI mechs behind the concierge -- Careena? -- keep turning those white-lit eyes to look at her, and it's unsettling. They're just VI, and Tali knows that: multi-purpose, sealed joints to prevent water damage. _Basic personality suite,_ she reminds herself, thinking about the product manual. The Hahne-Kedar mechs at Freedom's Progress weren't new to the galactic market when she saw them last month, but it was the first time she'd seen so many. This is just confirmation of what she'd expected: they've become _affordable_.

It's just a basic personality suite. The mechs keep glancing at the concierge, holding heavy shotguns, and Shepard is a better collected woman than Tali -- she doesn't even ask about it. Waive all the paperwork and fees, but greet your guest with guns? A pointless exercise, even if it's standard protocol -- it's _Shepard._

"The order came from Liara T'Soni," and Tali checks back in to the conversation, briefly exchanging a glance with Garrus, "who paid all fees on your behalf. She also asked that I direct you to speak with her at your convenience. She's near the trading floor."

The asari does something with her omni-tool -- the lights on the mechs go red for a moment and Tali reaches for her shotgun, but Garrus touches his fingers to her wrist, stopping her. They simply turn and walk away. She breathes out.

"Liara is here? What is she doing?"

"Liara is one of Nos Astra's most respected information brokers," Careena says, and that doesn't sound right to Tali. No, it sounds-- wrong. Liara's smart, _absolutely_ , but information brokers are cutthroat, shrewd -- untrustworthy people. They treat people and knowledge like pawns and credits, nothing is sacred.

Liara is a gentle person who turned to studying dead people because the restrictions and conventions of contemporary society were dismissive and exhausting. Right?

She's certainly smart enough to do the job, but this seems--

"Thank you," Shepard says, and it almost sounds like _alright, goodbye_. Careena only smiles.

"Again, welcome to our city, Commander. Please enjoy your stay."

" _Customs records indicate a justicar named Samara is visiting this port, Shepard,_ " EDI supplies over comms. " _Your former teammate Liara T'Soni may have more information. Her office overlooks the trading floor._ "

"That's useful," Tali admits, shrugging a shoulder. "The old Normandy VI seems like kind of a slacker, in comparison."

"The old Normandy VI was just there to keep Joker from getting lonely," Garrus replies, smirking. "EDI actively pisses him off. Keeps him on his toes."

"She can hear you, you know," says Shepard, leading them through customs. Tali wants to correct her. _It_ can hear you.

The view of the horizon is gorgeous, all the buildings in the distance. Illium's surface temperature is so hot, it's not habitable except at the poles -- most of the world is decorated in gorgeous skyscrapers and skyways to escape the heat, not dissimilar to the Prothean ones on Feros. Nearly the entire populated world gets these views, endless air, skycars flitting between neverending buildings. It's beautiful. Tali read about Illium for months before she made her choice.

"I was supposed to go on Pilgrimage here," she mentions, quietly.

"Glad you changed your mind," Garrus remarks, shadowing Shepard as she weaves through the trading kiosks. "If you hadn't been on the Citadel when you were, Shepard wouldn't have become a Spectre and I'd still probably be in prison for assisting in the armed assault on a gentleman's lounge."

"You only assaulted Chora's Den because you were looking for me," Tali reminds him. "Who knows where you'd actually be right now if I hadn't been there."

"Experiencing the end of all organic life as we know it," Shepard adds, dryly. "Though I suspect Garrus might have been looking forward to hitting the Den anyway. All those shifty characters in one place."

Tali sighs. It's barely been days since Haestrom, and now she's back here, where her long history of getting people killed began. 

"Why did you change your mind, anyway, Tali?"

Garrus with his terrible questions.

"You're going to need to get me very drunk to hear that story," she assures him, and now they're at the top of some stairs. A secretary stands with a too-sweet smile.

* * *

"Have you faced an asari commando unit before? Few humans have." Liara's voice is dark, threatening. Chilling. "I'll make it simple. Either you pay me, or I'll flay you alive. With my mind."

Shepard clears her throat and the hologram cancels as if automatically, Liara turns around with bright eyes, the markings on her forehead arcing gracefully. The dress doesn't suit her, Tali thinks, but maybe that's just nostalgia talking. This is Liara, in a fancy Illium office, and she just threatened someone. Over money.

"Shepard!" The asari holds up a hand to usher her secretary out of the room. "Nyxeris, hold my calls."

Liara goes in for a hug and Shepard meets her, and Tali feels... something about that.

"Ah... Shepard..." The human's arms wrap tightly around her friend and Tali looks to the side. Garrus is just watching them, seemingly undisturbed by this. Why?

Tali could have done that when she met Shepard again, couldn't she?

"My sources said you were alive, but I never believed..." Liara smiles, squeezing Shepard in her arms. It can't be comfortable with all the armor, but she doesn't seem to mind. "It's good to see you."

"You have _sources_ now?" Shepard's crossing her arms, smiling. Liara was _there_ when the Normandy went down.

No. Tali couldn't have been so open. Liara has no hesitation, no doubt in her mind that this is Shepard. There's a sense of guilt that kicks in, somewhere along the line, while Shepard and Liara catch up and discuss the justicar.

Shepard never gave her a reason to doubt. Tali needs to be a better friend.

* * *

"Were you listening to the news on the trading floor, Shepard?" Garrus is quiet in the shuttle. "The STG is supposedly investigating the Collector attacks. Wait, sorry: the 'mysterious disappearances'."

"It's coming a little late," Shepard says, keeping her eyes on traffic. Given what Tali knows about the commander, she's surprisingly decent at driving a skycar -- she doesn't even feel a little nauseous. "The abductions have been going on since before I was brought back. Freedom's Progress was the first one I saw."

"How long had you been back? By the time you reached Freedom's Progress, I mean." Shepard glances toward Tali at the question, then back at the sky.

"Not sure. Less than 24 hours when I saw you. It was... jarring, you know?" Shepard takes a turn, dipping below a long pavilion suspended between several skyscrapers. A park, perhaps. In the shade, they follow its length for a while, free from traffic. "When I... died," Shepard says, like it takes effort, "Liara had just told me the big news, about your new adult name. We talked about your Pilgrimage so much when you were on the Normandy; I'm no expert on quarian culture, but I knew how big of a deal it was for you. I was trying to think about what to write you, to congratulate you on the accomplishment. I wake up two years later, and you have your own team, you're running your own mission... it was a lot to take in."

Tali watches the skycar taillights flicker by in the distance, fingers curling into the pockets on her hip.

"I had to grow up fast after you died, Shepard," she admits. Garrus is unusually silent, staring out over the industrial fog of Illium. "I couldn't just... survive, working on the flotilla while knowing what was _out_ there, knowing that you couldn't do it anymore. I had to prove myself to the Admiralty Board so I could run my own projects... I tried so hard to find evidence to prove your claims, but all those places where we found Reaper tech came up empty."

Shepard snorts, resting her elbow between the window and the tiny ledge beside it, propping her chin up. 

"Well, we always knew Sovereign had a good PR team. But it doesn't matter. We _will_ stop them."

It sounds like the truth, when she says it. 

Shepard drives back out from under the shadows as they approach the spaceport.

* * *

Garrus ditches the somber attitude once they actually arrive on the scene, and Tali can't help but smile a little: it's a morbid thing, the way an active crime scene brings him to life. The mystery, the intrigue -- one volus dead and another attempting to escape, illegal drugs, an asari justicar! And mercs, of course, his prey of choice. Behind police lines, he and Shepard quietly count down over comms: she snipes an Eclipse member, he hits a LOKI mech. The mech blows up on contact, toppling over the other mech, and it's easy pickings from there.

He's not strictly _enjoying_ this, but he's in his element. Tali wonders if there's a difference.

* * *

Samara is elegant, beautiful: she floats through the air, and her eyes cut through a person, flay them open and expose them. When she approaches Shepard, it's like they're old friends. Kindred spirits.

Maybe she could believe that, if Tali hadn't just watched the justicar snap a woman's neck under her heel.

The detective detains her, and they're on a time limit, now, looking for the name of a ship.

Easy enough, right?

* * *

"God damn-- stupid volus piece of shit--"

"Language, Shepard," Garrus scolds, grabbing a wrist to pull her out of a cloud of Minagen X3 hurled by a merc. She's glowing blue, shuddering, shoulders heaving. Tali summons her combat drone behind the merc's cover, but it doesn't do much: Eclipse has its own share of engineers, and the heroic ballad of Chatika vas Paus comes to a swift and unceremonious end.

"Switch," Tali demands, taking Shepard from Garrus so he can take the time to line up a shot. Eclipse may be good, but they can't hack their way out of a hole in the head. "Shepard, breathe out until there's no air in your lungs."

Shepard obeys with a hideous wheeze, fogging up Tali's vision with her breath. Hopefully, it expels whatever amount of the drug is immediately inside of her respiratory system. Garrus cracks off a shot, blowing up a canister and sending a sister plummeting over the protective railing, down to Illium's treacherous floor.

"Okay," she says, switching places to pull the human up into her spot in cover. "Now breathe in."

She does. It seems to help -- she opens her eyes, at least. Tali summons another drone, distracting an Eclipse vanguard long enough for Garrus to nail her between the eyes. The area's clear. 

"I'm going to send Pitne For to jail for a thousand years," Shepard promises, choking down a cough as she gets up. " _Two_ thousand years. How long does a volus live? Double that."

"Why stop there?" Garrus just eggs her on, slipping over a crate and offering a hand for leverage. "Three times."

"Shepard, this isn't like you." Tali scrambles up on the crate after Shepard, heading toward the door. "I think it's the drugs."

"Tali, let her _complain_ a little. It's not good to keep all that rage bottled up, right, Shepard?"

Shepard shoves at him as she stalks by, a sharp set to her shoulders. It doesn't seem to bother Garrus at all.

It's unsettling to Tali, to say the least.

* * *

"I _thought_ I saw another gunship," Shepard mentions, as if it's the most boring thing in the world. She pulls the rocket launcher off her back as the screaming metal machine rises up over them. "Garrus, Tali, get to cover. I'm handling this."

"But Shepard--"

"I said I'm _handling this._ "

Garrus looks irate at the order, but he obeys the command, pulling Tali into cover with him. They each keep an eye on the situation as it develops -- the gunship has room to maneuver on the far sides of the bridge, but it can't stay in the center or maneuver around; it would get stuck, and there's too much cover. Shepard can just hide on one side of a crate and force the pilot to come all the way across for her, then dodge behind a cement block to keep from getting directly hit by the rockets. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that Shepard's expertise in the field is why she got her position as a Spectre: it always seemed to be her silver tongue and shining, incorruptible morality that made her so powerful. The woman convinced Saren Arterius to end it all. She's literally more influential than a Reaper.

After setting the ship on fire a few times and breaking a wing off, Shepard handles it, like she said she would. The gunship explodes in a cloud of fire, smoke, and hot air; Shepard's hair whips around her head like a cloud of red sand with her back to the blast, embers floating behind her like an action vid.

"They could get creative, you know?" Shepard's gesturing for them to follow her to the other side. "Try something new? But no, every criminal with a few thousand credits just buys the same gunship, over and over again... try something new, right? Or at least don't bother."

"You'd prefer they lay down and die?" Garrus asks. "That's less sporting than I'd expect from you, Shepard."

"I'd prefer they give up before I have to fight them," Shepard says, and not for the first time, Tali sees a glimpse of exhaustion on her face. "It's not like I'm doing it for my own health."

* * *

"I am a biotic god," the volus claims, stalking toward them with all of the tact and predatory instinct of a beach ball. His mastery of lighting his arm up blue is very impressive, but not as impressive as the careful dance of emotions on Shepard's face -- pure, unbridled rage holds tight to delicate restraint.

"Are you part of Pitne For's trade group?" she asks, and Garrus angles his weight all to one side, arms crossed like a show's about to start.

"When I was _mortal_ , I worked for Pitne," the volus begins, as if reciting a legend, wheezing terribly. Tali can't help but find it a _little_ funny, if sad. Pitne hadn't mentioned that he'd gone missing. While he talks, Shepard holds both hands behind her back -- six fingers extended while the rest remain curled into her palm.

"Six thousand years," Garrus whispers on the comms, nudging Tali. He sounds like he's getting a kick out of it. Tali's more concerned about how they're going to leave the spaceport if Shepard executes a volus businessman.

"Take a nap," Shepard says, tapping the volus on the shoulder. "You'll feel better."

He tips forward onto his arms, shaking his head in a daze. Any humor in the situation is gone, this just feels _pitiful_.

* * *

The justicar seems pleasantly surprised when they return with the information, barely bruised and lightly dusted with toxic drugs. She joins the cause, and thankfully swears not to snap any necks without Shepard's orders, which makes Tali feel a _little_ better about having an unstoppable killing machine on their side.

Once Samara leaves for the Normandy, Shepard takes a walk around the precinct, having a hushed conversation with Detective Anaya, pointedly glancing at Pitne For a few times through the window. Though she'd doubled her anger after seeing the state his trade partner was in, her discussion with the detective seems civil enough, and it's relieving for Tali to have proof that her lapse in attitude was only temporary. She checks in with the sobering volus, Niftu Cal, before they leave, crouching down to make sure he's doing alright and recommending a few of the reputable rehabilitation centers around Illium that EDI had suggested, as well as one on Irune that Shepard seems to know right off the top of her head. 

"What was the name of that volus at Peak 15, again?" Garrus asks as they get into the skycar.

"Han Olar," Shepard replies, instantly. She stiffens a split second after she answers, and there's a shielded expression on her face when she glances at the turian. The grin only covers half of his face as Garrus looks out the window. "Why?"

"No reason," he says, leaning back in the seat. "Just had a feeling you might remember. Did he ever get therapy after all that?"

It sounds like another trick question, but its purpose is lost on Tali. She has no idea what the context is -- she wasn't on the mission to Noveria. It feels like being on the other side of a glass wall, looking into a clean room.

Shepard doesn't respond, pulling the skycar out of the docks.

* * *

> **Subject: Re: Checking In**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Auntie Raan,
> 
> Don't worry. I'm safe. I promise I'll let you know if anything happens.
> 
> I love you.
> 
> Tali


	25. Kindred Spirits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali gets a little more familiar with the SR-2 and its crew. An invisible woman makes an appearance, in the most strict definition of the word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all warned me I'd burn out and I didn't listen... I'm still into this, I'm sorry I've been taking so long writing, though.

Shepard decides to take Garrus and Kasumi with her to find the assassin. It makes enough sense to Tali -- Garrus may be something of a showboat nowadays, but he has a good eye for the sorts of vantage points an assassin may want to exploit, and Kasumi knows a thing or two about breaking into high security buildings full of armed guards. It gives Tali time to thoroughly scour her envirosuit for traces of Minagen X3 in sanitation and make a round through the ship, taking note of where the rest of the crew spend their time.

She already knows where Kasumi spends most of her downtime, and Miranda occupies what would be the CO's chambers if Shepard didn't have an entire floor to herself. Mess Sergeant Gardner presides over the SR-2's new kitchen, and as she passes by, Crewman Hawthorne lets her in on the open secret that she's lucky she can't eat human food. She had never once felt particularly _lucky_ to be dextro, given the galaxy's apparent favoritism toward levo lifeforms, but the face Goldstein makes behind him seems to back up his claims. Suddenly, it doesn't sound so bad to be eating dextro ration bars.

Talking to Gardner confirms her suspicion that Garrus spends most of his free time in the forward battery: the Mako is a thing of the past now that the Normandy comes with probes, and the Cerberus shuttle doesn't see combat: he needs _something_ to tinker with. That man has some of the twitchiest fingers in the galaxy when he's not holding a gun. It only makes sense that he'd find some endless mechanical task to do when Shepard isn't running him ragged in the field.

Kasumi and Samara have each taken an observation deck, which means the side with the bar is probably the safer of the two. On the engineering deck, Zaeed is set up near the trash compactor and the one time she walked in, he talked about the time he supposedly seduced a former asari justicar for a full ten minutes before Tali could make an excuse to leave. The krogan -- Grunt, as he's known -- lives in storage, and doesn't seem to get out much beyond missions. Mordin rarely leaves his lab off the combat information center, and Jacob practically lives in the armory.

Then there's Cerberus. It's surprisingly easy to walk through the ship without bumping into them -- EDI's integration into the Normandy makes running the ship much more efficient, fewer specialists are needed and it can basically fly itself when Joker needs to sleep, but with so few organics, it will be just that much easier to kill _everyone_ when it finally turns evil.

Tali hasn't put it off _too_ long, she thinks, stepping into the med bay. When Chakwas turns in her chair, she smiles so big, Tali wonders why she waited.

"Is that Tali'Zorah?" For how few their meetings had been aboard the SR-1, Dr. Chakwas seems very pleased to see Tali, standing to approach. Tali meets her halfway and is met with a most unexpected hug, and she can't help but melt into it, despite herself. "Tali'Zorah vas Neema, if I remember right! My, how you've grown."

Tali snorts, squeezing Chakwas as she steps back. "I haven't grown at all, you're just sentimental."

"If you're trying to call me old, my dear, I'm afraid I already know." 

* * *

"Hey, it's Tali the alley cat."

"I have no idea what that means, Joker."

Tali takes a seat in the co-pilot's chair, conspicuously empty at all times. Joker turns his chair to face her, clearly relishing in the new motion controls afforded by the Cerberus upgrades. 

"Finally came upstairs to get a lesson on flying from a real pilot, huh? Or did you just miss me?"

"If I wanted a lesson on flying, don't you think I would have come up here when you were flying?"

The vast, Illium skyline sprawls out before the viewport, skyscrapers breaking out beneath the Normandy through a foggy layer of atmosphere. Joker presses both pointer fingers together and touches them to his lips, nodding slightly, as if taking her words as druidic wisdom.

"Alright, I see your point. So you _admit_ you missed me."

"You're like the cynical big brother I never had," Tali replies, staring out over the Normandy's console. It's so much more streamlined than the bridge on the SR-1: the holographic display is smaller, more manageable. The brightness of it seems to be turned down; Cerberus keeps the lights on higher during the general waking cycle than the Alliance used to. Though she's been in many ships before, they rarely have the same console and holo-display they were built with after years of repair and retrofitting; to see everything mesh together naturally is alien, especially given how cutting edge the tech here is.

"Gorgeous, isn't she?" Joker disables kinetic recognition and splays his palms over the dashboard and under the projected interface, turning his chair to slide his hands all the way across. "Makes you wonder how long they actually worked on her. I'm not sure I buy the idea that it only took Cerberus two years."

Tali turns her head to look back at the CIC, a more spacious version of the original model. 

"I'm more curious why Cerberus kept the turian design elements once they figured out that the stealth system worked. Improving on the stealth and the drive core is one thing, but keeping the turian style command center doesn't feel particularly... Cerberus."

"You're looking at it the wrong way. Cerberus has never shied away from stealing from other species as long as it's a 'good idea'. You know, like Thorian creepers?"

"Or rachni."

"Or thresher maws. They were _really_ obsessed with those things for a while."

"The commanding officer is boarding," EDI announces.

The airlock door hisses open and the shore party steps aboard, Shepard and Garrus, followed by a drell with very straight posture. He looks toward the cockpit with big, dark eyes, then turns his head back toward the CIC to follow Shepard. Joker sighs, turning the kinetic recognition back on.

"EDI, get Jacob to the conference room."

"Done, Mr. Moreau. Bringing up navigational input."

Tali scans the route, furrowing her brow. "Is Shepard taking us to--"

"Tuchanka? Yeah. Seems that way. Maybe we'll pick up a few more crazy headbutting monsters." Joker sighs, pulling away from Illium's bright lights and hot atmosphere. "Personally, I wish she'd pick up a couple more of you. I don't know if you've noticed, but everyone else on this ship is batshit crazy."

"What about Garrus?"

"I said what I said. Now, did you want to learn how to fly or not?"

* * *

"I like your hood," comes a voice from somewhere. Tali holds up her omni-tool like a weapon, pressing against the railing as she looks around. "Oh, relax, Tali! If I wanted to hurt you, would I have said anything?"

"Kasumi?" Her voice is unsure. In a flash of black and gray, the faceless human seems to materialize against the door to the main corridor access, holding up two thumbs up toward the quarian before she disappears again.

"Good guess! I saw you talking to Joker earlier and thought I should introduce myself." Her voice is coming from inside Tali's helmet, now -- she didn't tune in to a comm channel. "I'm Kasumi Goto, master thief. And you're Tali'Zorah vas Neema, master engineer. We have that in common; mastery."

Tali turns her head toward Engineer Daniels -- she's paying attention to her console while Donnelly installs a new part somewhere in the underbelly of the engineering deck. Nobody else knows Kasumi is here, so Tali just turns back to her station and gets back to trimming up the power usage for Shepard's cabin.

"If you steal anything from engineering, I _will_ find out."

"Oh, why bother? I like this ship, I'd prefer if it didn't blow up before Cerberus pays me for my time. Neat drive core, by the way."

"Thanks," says Tali, like she was involved in installing it. Oh, to imagine assembling a new Normandy... "It's twice as big as the old one. What did you want, exactly?"

"Let's talk about Shepard," says Kasumi, and though Tali knows she's touring the deck, it unsettles her not to know _where_ she is. Neither of the doors on this level have opened. "She recently helped me settle a score with an old friend -- it was one of my conditions of joining this mission. But _now,_ we're heading to Tuchanka to see a doctor about Grunt being a grumpy grumpster... it got me wondering whether I owe the favor on Bekenstein to Cerberus or Shepard. You were on her crew in 2183: what do you think?"

Tali glances down toward the drive core, feeling the hum of it in her bones.

"Do I think she would have done it for you even if it hadn't been part of the deal with Cerberus?"

"Yes. Do you?"

"Without hesitation." Tali doesn't hesitate in answering, either. "She made significant detours when we were waiting for leads on Saren. Shepard took out a war profiteer to help an old crew member get back a family heirloom, tracked down a derelict ship to help Garrus get closure on a cold case he was involved in. She helped me secure a gift for my Pilgrimage and went out of her way to make sure a soldier's body was returned to her family, shut down a ring of slavers, took out a biotic terrorist cell..."

"Was this before or after she saved Terra Nova?"

"Oh, most of it was before!" Tali is beaming now, and it creeps into her voice. "The X57 incident was before my Pilgrimage gift and the ring of slavers, but after everything else. This one wasn't in the news, but she even disabled a nuclear bomb in under 10 seconds and killed Elanos Haliat after he tried to take her out!"

"Elanos Haliat? From the Skyllian Blitz?"

"That very one! She knelt on the edge of a cliff with her rifle and blew his head _right_ off his shoulders before he even knew she was there." Garrus had been so nervous when Haliat had brought down the rubble on top of the main chamber, panicking for the full 10 seconds. Shepard had just taken a knee in the dust and disarmed all three hardpoints in the blink of an eye. Every second of it is burned into Tali's memory -- the moment Shepard's reputation became more than myth. 

_Holographic mandibles flick excitedly over a too-smooth voice as Haliat crows about his looming victory, cursing the commander for meddling in his perfect plan to push humanity out of the Skyllian Verge. The turian is too self-absorbed to notice, but even Tali can see that Shepard's mind is on other things -- the probe, the lights, the rough map of the area on her omni-tool. She weaponizes the uncharacteristic smirk on her face, tilting her head to one side as a hand settles on a hip. Defiant and in control, even trapped under meters of rubble with a ticking time bomb only a few feet away._

_"You organized the attack on Elysium. You want me to thank you for my Star of Terra?"_

"You admire her," Kasumi's voice pulls Tali from her memory, and it sounds fond, interested. Thinking about it, nearly everything she says sounds fond -- playful, impish, but always with good intentions. She has all of the intimate familiarity of a childhood friend; Tali finds it surprising that she spends so much of her time cloaked when she manages to be so disarming, even while hacking other people's comms and sneaking into their workplaces. "Her service record _is_ impressive."

"It's not about that," Tali insists, flicking her external speakers off and walking down the catwalk toward the core, leaning on the railing there. "It's not... just about that. Shepard is so genuinely _good_. She cares about everyone and everything, even horrible, scary things -- things that nobody should care about. What's that human story -- the one that your people keep retelling, about the human who learns to care about a hideous monster? They remake it with new settings every four years or so?"

"Beauty and the Beast?" Kasumi doesn't bother to rein herself in -- she may be cloaked, but the size of her smile shines through in her tone.

"That one! If Shepard were the beauty in that story, it would be over in a minute. She wouldn't need to get past any prejudices to find the good in the beast and transform everything back to the way things were. _Nothing_ repels her."

"I don't think you know that story very well, then." Kasumi says this with a sincerity that sounds almost serious -- unusually serious for her. It grabs Tali's attention. "It's not _really_ about the beauty learning to love the beast, it's about the beauty helping the beast feel like a person, again, when the rest of the world has pushed the beast away. When the beast has pushed the _world_ away." She pauses for a moment, then sighs dreamily. "It's _so_ much more romantic that way."

Tali laughs, crossing her arms over the guard rail as she tilts forward a little. 

"So you're a romantic?"

"Only sometimes." A pause as Kasumi reevaluates the lie. "Well, no. Most of the time! I've stolen more than a few pieces in my personal collection for their sentimental value, or because they were too beautiful to go without. Or on a dare. Or for fun. Or on a fun dare."

"Are you at all familiar with quarian films?"

* * *

> **Subject: Update**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Dear Auntie Raan,
> 
> I'm feeling a lot better about being here, now. Shepard's ground team is so diverse -- you know about Garrus, but there's also a krogan that isn't even a mercenary, a salarian, and an asari justicar! They mainly keep to asari space, I never thought I'd meet one in my lifetime. We just brought on a drell, too. Even out of her human teammates, only two of them are actually Cerberus. On the SR-1, Chief Engineer Adams was always letting me give engineering demonstrations to his team, but on the SR-2, I'm actually the one in charge. I've done more important things for the flotilla, of course, but it's so strange to be back here and to have so much more say in what goes on.
> 
> Joker gave me this sort of impromptu lesson on piloting a frigate, but he's a much better pilot than a teacher. I might ask Captain Gerrel for flight training when I return to the Migrant Fleet. I don't know if I'll need it, but it's better to have and not need it in a crisis, right?
> 
> I'm doing great, and I love you so much! Keep me updated if anything big happens on the Neema.
> 
> Hope things are going well for you in the Patrol Fleet and on the Tonbay.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Tali

* * *

> **[Garrus]** : Have a minute for a drink?  
>  **[Garrus]** : Shepard, in her infinite wisdom, just let me know I'd be on her ground team on Tuchanka.  
>  **[Garrus]** : I might just be a dead turian by tomorrow.  
>  **[Tali]** : You have so little faith in Shepard!  
>  **[Garrus]** : No, I just have a lot of faith in Tuchanka.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Drink?  
>  **[Garrus]** : Jacob's workout is well underway. The bar is safe.  
>  **[Garrus]** : You're not going to make me beg, are you?  
>  **[Tali]** : Is that an option?

* * *

Tali is already on the elevator when she sends the last message, mere moments after temporarily putting Donnelly in charge -- on a personal level, she prefers Daniels, but Donnelly seems to perform better when the brunt of the responsibility is on his shoulders. The Normandy is starting to feel less like enemy territory and more like the home away from home she remembers, all advanced technology and socially inept strangers trying to get along under one spaceworthy roof.

Garrus is already sitting when she arrives, an unopened can of water and a straw sitting on the counter beside his elbow.

"A little impatient, Garrus?"

"Well, you did keep me waiting." There's a faux sour look on his face when he turns his head, but it turns to the turian version of a tired smile as he turns back toward the great wall of alcohol. She's quick to join him, hopping up and cracking open her water. Despite asking to join him for drinks, he's only drinking water, as well. Tali wonders if the bar would be having an existential crisis if it were alive. She certainly would be. He holds his glass a few inches over the surface. "To my imminent demise?"

"To your imminent surprise," Tali replies, clicking the bottom of her can against his glass. He smiles at that, browplate lowered when he looks down, mandibles twitching slightly. The glow of the recreation pod across the room shifts to a bright blue behind him, and for a moment, he looks strikingly handsome against the backlight.

_Whoa. Okay._

"I probably won't die," Garrus decides, sighing. "But those krogan are going to make me wish I had. I'm glad I've run a few missions with Grunt already, at least; I guess that makes me the most qualified to go."

"I haven't really talked to him," Tali says, and the question is born as much of curiosity as the subconscious desire to steer him away from his thoughts for a minute. "What is Grunt like?"

"Uhhh..." Garrus gestures vaguely, halfheartedly, as he tries to come up with something. "You know... krogan? I don't know. He's big, morbid, and likes to fight. Back on Omega, there was this... huge pile of burnt bodies, right when you got off the shuttle to Gozu District. He took a look at that and asked if anyone else was hungry."

"Oh," says Tali.

"On the other hand, he was _really_ excited to fight that Colossus," Garrus says, shrugging one shoulder. "It's good to know we'll have a volunteer to take a flying headbutt into the next praetorian we fight. Which you... haven't seen yet. It's this terrible Collector amalgamation made out of husks that we saw back on Horizon. Took forever to kill, tears the shit out of your shields."

"Do you think you'll be safe with him on Tuchanka?"

"Can anyone be safe on Tuchanka?" Garrus throws his glass of water back as Tali shakes her head. "It'll probably be fine. As far as I can tell, he doesn't really have any innate allegiance to krogans as a whole, so... if Shepard protects me, he'll probably just follow her lead."

"And Shepard _will_ protect you," Tali adds, patting the back of his hardsuit.

The mandible closest to Tali flicks slightly.

"Yeah. I know she will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I made Elanos turian even though he technically has a human model in game... it was a mistake... he's got vocal flanging on his lines, keeps talking about like, pushing "you people" (humans) out of the Skyllian Verge, and is literally named for Elanus Risk Control and Haliat Armory, both of which are turian (or formerly turian) equipment manufacturers. I usually get really antsy if I don't stick to canon, but hey, I'm also making Tali bi, which is technically not canon, so pretty much anything I write from here on out is just doing the lord's work and putting things right.


	26. Missed Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali reflects on friendships, old and new. Not all withstand the tests of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience, I've been trying to figure this chapter out for a solid week (while being point blank assaulted with oneshot ideas) and pretty much only wrote 10 words a day until this morning. Hoping I've worked past the blockage and hoping to get back into it! I updated the tags and fic summary to be a little less cluttery -- this was and is the first fic I ever uploaded to AO3 so I just really didn't want to trick anyone into reading it with my tags, haha...

> **[Garrus]** : So, you were right.  
>  **[Tali]** : I'm always right, Garrus.  
>  **[Tali]** : It's hard to keep track, so remind me what I was right about this time.  
>  **[Garrus]** : I lived.  
>  **[Garrus]** : She didn't make it easy on me, though.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Fought a thresher maw on foot.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Got volunteered up as part of Grunt's new murder posse, still trying to figure out exactly how I feel about that.  
>  **[Tali]** : Are we playing two truths and a lie?  
>  **[Garrus]** : I wish.  
>  **[Garrus]** : She launched up from the ground and headbutted a guy like the shortest, angriest damn krogan I've ever seen.  
>  **[Garrus]** : I don't know how she does it, it's like she absorbed an old Tuchankan spirit when we hit the dirt.  
>  **[Tali]** : Shepard's always been... sympathetic.  
>  **[Tali]** : To the krogan, especially. I was with her on Virmire when she was trying to get Wrex past his hangups.  
>  **[Garrus]** : I was there for Virmire too, Tali.  
>  **[Tali]** : Not like I was.  
>  **\-- Garrus is idle. --**  
>  **[Garrus]** : Not coming back up yet, apparently. Shepard needs me for something else down here before we leave.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Getting a little sick of being the only turian on the Normandy.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Sure, I love action, but that doesn't mean I want to get dragged down to every radioactive planet we come across.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Modern armor is built to withstand radiation better than a little thulium-infused plating.  
>  **[Tali]** : Did she say that's why she brought you?  
>  **[Garrus]** : No.  
>  **[Garrus]** : But she brought Grunt back on Haestrom, and we're coincidentally the only two species on the Normandy with a natural resistance to radioactivity.  
>  **[Tali]** : Was Illium radioactive, too?  
>  **[Garrus]** : Not that I'm aware of.  
>  **[Tali]** : Maybe she just likes your company?  
>  **[Garrus]** : Well, I do have a great sense of humor.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Might finally crack into that brandy when we're done down here.  
>  **[Tali]** : I'll try to squeeze you into my very busy schedule.   
> **[Garrus]** : Speaking of Wrex, you might want to reach out to him.  
>  **[Garrus]** : He asked about you.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Alright, leaving Camp Urdnot, about to lose my signal.   
> **[Garrus]** : See you later.  
>  **[Tali]** : Wrex is there?  
>  **\-- Garrus is idle. --**

* * *

> **Subject: Long time no see?**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Hey, Wrex! I heard that you're back on Tuchanka -- actually, I think Liara told me that back before... everything happened. I'm sorry I didn't reach out, personal correspondence sort of just got lost in the shuffle.
> 
> I'm on the new Normandy with Shepard, as you probably already know. I'm not sure if I'll get a chance to visit before we head off somewhere else. I'm guessing she couldn't convince you to join us on our mission, or I'd have seen you by now! Guess you're still working on that "business back home".
> 
> I hope things are going well for you.
> 
> Tali

* * *

> **Subject: Bad at this!**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Liara,
> 
> We didn't really get a chance to talk when Shepard brought me with her to Nos Astra. I'm sure you understand, but I still feel bad for just leaving without saying much, you know? When the concierge told me you were an information broker now, I really didn't believe it. I couldn't picture it! But it actually suits you. I hope it's fulfilling for you.
> 
> The Normandy is lesser without you aboard. I know you're busy, but I'll try to keep in touch.
> 
> Take care.
> 
> Tali

* * *

"I hate Tuchanka," Garrus declares, sprawling out across the couch. "Never going back for any reason."

"You'll go back if Shepard tells you to," Tali retorts from where she's laying on the floor. "And if she goes back, she probably _will_ tell you to. That's what you get for offering to have her back."

She has to wince as he spreads his arms out over the frame -- he took the time to shower after two consecutive missions on Tuchanka, but now his hardsuit is in pieces on the floor of the lounge, patching supplies seated beside him. Taking care of Grunt's problems didn't attract many bullets, apparently, but the second thing Shepard needed Garrus for... he won't talk about it, and Tali isn't pressing. Judging by the look on Shepard's face when she came ashore, though, it wasn't anything good.

"Guess so," Garrus says, lifting the brandy up in his hand. The colored lights from across the room filter through it, hazy colors on his face. "Right into the depths of hell."

"Oh, shut _up_. You love the workout." Tali pushes her belly up from the floor, trying to work a kink out of the small of her back -- something's misaligned from glaring down at the consoles all day. "You would go crazy if she went two missions in a row down there without you. You can't sit still, you _hate_ dirty work."

Garrus tilts his head back farther than Tali's ever seen before; the sliver of light, silvery skin above his collar almost seems to ripple as he laughs, low and humorless.

"That's what you think, huh."

"Calm down, it's not a moral judgement or anything," Tali says. It is absolutely a moral judgement. Garrus would make a terrible quarian -- he has trouble with authority, he would be far too headstrong and independent to make a decent marine, and he wouldn't be able to dedicate himself to the endless, unforgiving tasks of life support and flotilla upkeep that span the periods of time between outbound missions. The marines double as the police force aboard the flotilla, and he had already run away from C-Sec twice in the past two years. Plus, the trouble he gets himself into? He might be meticulous with his guns, but he's not meticulous with his body, if the bandage covering his mandible is anything to go by. He might just die of an infection in his sleep.

No, he would make an abysmal quarian.

"Some people can buckle down and do the ugly work of keeping the world running," she continues. "You aren't one of those people, Garrus."

Tali says it neutrally enough -- it's historically accurate, he's never been able to keep still long enough to do administrative work -- but he scoffs anyway, jamming one of his spurs into the couch as he drags his foot across the floor. Barefooted, it probably would have made a terrible noise, but his civilian clothes are built to minimize the sound.

"You sound so much like a merc, it's unreal."

Tali glares at him through her faceplate, watching as he just leans back and puts the whole bottle of brandy to his lips, no decorum at all. Either he's planning on finishing the whole thing in one sitting, or he's making a point to her by contaminating the only bottle of dextro alcohol on the human-majority ship. She's guessing it's the latter, considering the bitterness in his voice.

"You're misunderstanding me on purpose, you bosh'tet."

Kasumi is definitely still in the lounge, somewhere, but that's only one reason why Tali doesn't argue more. She doesn't have to explain herself. Garrus has always tried to be a loner; the rules were made for other people, not _sensible_ people like him, jerked along all their lives by the irresistible pull of their moral compasses. So righteous, so incorruptible -- he's _never_ wrong.

He wasn't good at talking to people when they met, and he's not the best at it now. She's not going to push it.

"Look... once all the geth were cleared out of the Citadel... there was nothing for me to do, you know?" Tali turns her head a little from where she's laying on the floor, visual confirmation that she's listening to him. It's unexpected for him to open up like this. He glances out the viewport once he knows she's looking. "I know I'm no good at that crap. I had to do something _somewhere_."

Tali pulls a knee up close to her chest, holding it there with an arm until the stretch burns her legs a little.

"You couldn't look at the aftermath."

Garrus inhales sharply and turns his body toward the window, away from her. Gloved claws curled tight around the neck of the bottle.

His silence isn't a rebuttal.

* * *

> **Subject: Checking in**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> [[SEND]](https://problemstarchild.tumblr.com/private/612038257014865920/tumblr_UohIKIFSA93Y0l20C)
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Subject: RE: Long time no see?**   
>  **From: Urdnot Wrex**
> 
> Have to say, didn't think someone as chatty as you would take two whole years to get back to me. I can forgive you this time.
> 
> Lots to catch up on, and I'm not one for fancy prose. Next time you're in the neighborhood, come visit. You and Shepard can shoot some pyjaks and I'll show you some tricks I've learned with these new shotguns they're making nowadays.
> 
> Kick some Collector ass for me.

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Bad at this!**   
>  **From: Liara T'Soni**
> 
> Dear Tali,
> 
> Thank you for checking in. I regret that I can't make the time for pleasantries, but it seems we're similarly busy for the time being. It is good to know you are well.
> 
> Keep up the good work, and Goddess go with you.
> 
> Liara T'Soni

* * *

"So, tell me a little more about this idea of yours," Shepard says, leaning into the rail beside Tali's station. It always surprises her that the human is so light on her feet -- she is an infiltrator, of course, but when so many of their missions involve explosions, head-on confrontations, and waves of hostile mechs, it’s easy to forget how quietly she can sneak up behind someone. “The cyclonic barrier tech you suggested. I used to have an understanding about what was going on in the belly of my ship, but it’s surprising how many advances can be made in two years.” 

Tali brightens up, clasping her hands together and bouncing up on her toes to express the feeling in a way Shepard can see. It’s exciting to feel like she’s come so far from the days of the commander telling her how the ship works to today, chief engineer, on top of the latest technology and advising on upgrades.

“Well, they’re good for stopping huge kinetic energy attacks, like the ones that ripped up the SR-1. The shielding we have now is basically the same as you had then, it’s just one static barrier sitting in an unbroken silhouette around the Normandy, like a shell. _Wuhhhhhh_ ,” Tali says, holding out both palms together to pantomime a wall as she imitates the sound.

“Wuh?” Shepard’s smiling, but she looks tired. She always looks tired, lately. Hair limp, shoulders tense. Back when Kaidan was around, she didn't stay this disheartened for so long -- their relationship was against regulations, so they tried to hide it, even from the non-human members of the team, but... back then, it was like just being around him was enough to recharge her batteries. Nowadays, it seems like she's perpetually running on empty. 

It’s good to see her smile. If Kaidan isn’t going to be around, Tali just has to pick up the slack. She bounces up again, nodding a little too vigorously. 

“ _Wuhhh_ , it’s how the shield tech we’re using right now sounds! CBT rotates the mass effect field generators so the fields are _constantly_ oscillating at high speeds, so even if projectiles have their _own_ mass effect fields that would break through a static barrier, the rapidly turning defensive fields smack it away. Projectiles should glance off of us, or at least shift the brunt of the force off the Normandy.” Tali starts moving her palms in erratic, mirrored circles, her whole body shaking a little from the enthusiasm of it. “ _Wumwumwumwum...!_ ”

The next smile reaches Shepard’s eyes, some of the tension leaves her posture. It’s entirely worth looking a little silly for a few seconds. Tali folds her hands behind her back, rocking on her heels as she smiles to herself. 

“Alright, Tali. And what’s the catch, aside from all the precious metals we’ll need?”

“They’ll need a lot of maintenance, and it can be dangerous for the operators if one gets damaged, with a single unstable oscillating mass effect field in the mix. But we all signed up for the danger.” Tali raises her voice a little, turning her head to look at the engineers across from them, who are no doubt eavesdropping. “Isn’t that right, Donnelly?”

Caught off-guard, he turns to give Shepard a snappy salute, standing tall with his chin held high. “I wave hello to Jack every time I go to the subdeck to crawl around in the ducts, ma’am. Danger and I are good friends.” 

Daniels snorts without turning away from her work and Tali can’t help but beam. Shepard’s loosened up a lot, nodding for him to get back to his station.

“What if a field projector is damaged during combat? Do we have a robust enough engineering team to handle a damaged projector in the heat of combat while dealing with everything else?”

“The system automatically reverts to the standardized static barrier if that happens. The only real downsides to CBT are the material cost and maintenance -- everything else is an upside, really. It’s not even that bad on the power draw, and with the resources the SR-2 has...” Tali folds her fingers together, sighing audibly through the mic. “The flotilla only has _one_ frigate with this tech in the heavy fleet, and it was a Pilgrimage gift. The Normandy is perfect for it.”

Shepard rests heavily against the railing with both arms, stretching her shoulders and back in an arch, and the padded panels of her fatigues stretch apart over her abdomen as she hums. Tali clears her throat, glancing back to her station.

“Sounds great. I’m just doing a little value weighting in advance, in case we don’t have time to collect the resources for everyone’s upgrades. Cyclonic barriers are at the top of my list.”

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Checking In**   
>  **From: Kaidan Alenko**
> 
> Tali,
> 
> I'm fine. Thanks for checking.
> 
> Kaidan

* * *

Hearing back from Liara and Wrex was a little sobering: the brevity, the stiffness. Tali feels guilty for the gap in communication -- the canyon between her and her former teammates is entirely her fault. They _all_ had to deal with Shepard's death -- hell, Liara was _there_.

Tali is quarian, this is her _culture_ ; mending over the unfair demands of distance with frequent communication and openness. It was up to her to keep in touch with Wrex, to check on Liara, to message Garrus back, but no: she had a meltdown instead, disappeared into her helmet for months and came back out cocooned against the outside world, like everyone else.

Kaidan's message cuts the deepest. He'd _never_ been so short with her, before; even if he got distracted in the middle of a conversation, he'd always come back to it wholeheartedly. She had never felt brushed off before. The worst part is not knowing why -- was it the distance? Lack of communication? Does he know she's with Cerberus? A mixture of the three? How many words did Shepard get out of him?

Tali had passing friendships with Wrex and Liara, but she was _close_ with Kaidan -- he and Ashley had made her feel welcome on the Normandy, back in the days before Pressly wanted to shake her hand, before Chakwas initiated hugs, before Joker said a word to her, _long_ before she was dubbed his favorite. Kaidan had bought her a can of juiced keleven on the Citadel on one of their last stops before Virmire, and she dutifully drank the whole thing while they sat and chatted -- carefully monitoring her voice so he couldn't hear from her tone how disgusting the carbonated vegetable water tasted. When she was homesick, she would tell him stories about her misadventures with Raan, education on the flotilla, the recreational areas stocked with outdated alien vids on backup. He was always there to talk -- to her, to Liara, to Shepard.

He would tell her stories about Gagarin Station -- lighter ones, she could infer from the tone of his voice. Kids coming up with elaborate strategies to sneak messages to family, fast bonds made between biotic kids who ran into each other out of bed past curfew. Mostly, Kaidan would talk about his mom; summers climbing trees on his family's orchard out in the country, eating greasy food and heading down to English Bay in the cold rain, when all the tourists but the hanar would scatter into the city for shelter. He had hundreds of holos from back home -- ones he'd taken himself, ones sent to him by his mother -- and he'd flick through them while he talked, filling Tali's head with the bright colors and glass architecture, water and skyscrapers and big, blue skies full of billowing clouds and little, striped insects.

"Yeah, my family's bananas about apples," he had said once, holding out a summer holo. Teenaged, she'd guess; his hair mussed off to one side, a rustic-looking basket heaping with yellowish-red, fist-sized fruits in his arms, an endless landscape of trees beyond him. Tali knew enough to know that bananas and apples were both fruits, but didn't understand the saying at all. She didn't bother to ask -- Kaidan had such a soft expression on his face, the smile on his mouth never once leaving his face when he spoke. "Braeburns, nice and sweet, they smell _great_. Nainai used to collect all these old, old baskets, and my mom brought them with her when she moved from Singapore. She'd turn whatever I picked into pies or cobblers or whatever, I had _such_ a sweet tooth."

Tali thinks of that news vid from back when Joker was released from the hospital -- Kaidan had decked that reporter, knocked her flat on the ground when she went after Joker. He must have been so angry and alone, and all Tali did was mope. She could have reached out. She _should_ have reached out. They could have helped each other to cope. But now...

Shepard is with Cerberus, and Kaidan is too far away to reach, even in the Normandy.

It's only when she looks up from her omni-tool that she even notices that the drell assassin has seated himself across from her, silently having at his meal. A salad of some sort. She reflexively pulls her feet back under her chair, curling her fingers around the can of water.

"Hello...?"

"You seemed lost in a memory. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Oh." He doesn't look up at her. She almost appreciates it -- her head tilts downward, but she can't help but stare. It's not like she's met a drell, before. Most people haven't. "Thanks."

"I can return to my quarters, if you'd prefer to sit alone," he says, and he seems to blink twice at once. Two sets of eyelids? "Shepard suggested I get out more. My line of work hasn't afforded time for conversation in a while."

She thinks about turning him away -- he offered, after all. But all of her friends had once been strangers, once.

Kaidan had been a stranger, once.

"No, it's fine," Tali says, instead, reaching a hand out to shake. "I'm Tali'Zorah vas Neema, I'm the chief engineer. It's good to meet you."

He has a firm handshake, lips split down the middle, like hers.

"Thane Krios. I look forward to working together."


	27. Barriers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali makes an effort to get close to a few folks she's been avoiding. The gang retrieves the M-44 Hammerhead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your patience. I've had a few things going on irl that made it hard to get this chapter out, but I'm happy to present it to you, now.

Talking to Thane is surprisingly pleasant -- not that he had seemed horrible when Tali first laid eyes on him, but one has certain preconceptions when they hear the word "assassin". He's open enough about discussing the profession that it surprises her: despite doing pro-bono work of his own volition, he seems rather neutral on the concept of assassination in general. Tali isn't sure whether to be fascinated or concerned with the philosophical distance he puts between himself and his old life.

"A gun is faultless for murder," he says, gesturing slightly before he steeples his fingers again. "The hand that wields it is the one that committed the crime. If you use a knife to scratch your name into a tree, it's not the knife's fault. In the same way, you can't truly fault an assassin for the death of their marks."

"It's still a choice, though," Tali says, and the lack of judgement in her mind and tone surprises her. Something about working with a human terrorist group must have reduced her sensitivity to assassins. From what Garrus has said, at least, the drell is a decent guy -- he took time out of his plans to save civilians. Shepard seems to like him well enough, and hunting Saren taught her to generally trust Shepard's gut feeling. 

Thane is hardly reluctant to part with information on his profession, but his body language still comes off as guarded: only small gestures with his hands and wrists, he rarely lifts an arm off the table when he speaks. Tali speaks with her whole body, as do most quarians. It's considered polite, when your species can't read each other's facial expressions. 

"What about you, Tali?" She feels like she has to concentrate to hear his voice; it's quiet and low -- her translator doesn't give him a difficult accent to understand, but he evidently has a lot of practice not being casually overheard. "It's uncommon for a quarian to leave the Migrant Fleet on their own, is it not?"

"Unless we're on our Pilgrimage," she agrees, folding her fingers. Tali polished off the water a while ago.

"You introduced yourself as being of the Neema," Thane says, blinking at her again. His facial expression doesn't seem to shift much. He's very hard to read, but he comes off pleasantly neutral. "I heard from Garrus that you were part of Shepard's original crew in 2183. With your Pilgrimage complete, what brings you back?"

"Saving the galaxy, of course."

"Really?" He smiles, probably -- whatever he's doing with his face probably passes for a smile compared to the usual stoicism. "I was under the impression that this mission was to take down the Collectors."

"Well," Tali says, lifting her head a little. "I heard that the Collectors that Shepard encountered on Horizon were using husks as ground units. They were these... creatures, made by the geth in Saren's army, humans turned into synthetic, bloodthirsty monsters. I need to find out what's going on with that."

"Did Shepard lead with that information?"

Tali is taken aback for a moment. She _hadn't_ learned any of that until she'd spoken with Garrus. Thane at least has the decency to sound curious rather than accusatory.

"She didn't need to," Tali says, instead. "Shepard only does things that matter. Working with her is... a more direct approach than working with the Migrant Fleet. It's mutually beneficial."

"Understandable," Thane says, looking thoughtful. "I agree."

* * *

"You are the quarian from Illium," Samara says -- she doesn't turn her head or open her eyes when Tali enters. "You assisted the commander in retrieving valuable information for me. I owe you a debt that can't be quantified."

"That's okay," Tali half-laughs, awkwardly stepping inside the observation bay doors. It's eerie in here; all of the space floating by, but no bar, no collection of art and eccentricities in the back, no softly-glowing entertainment pod. "I thought I should introduce myself, since it didn't seem likely to bump into you out there."

The reflection of the asari in the viewport smiles slightly at that and she tilts her head slightly, opening her eyes to look at Tali's reflection. Her gaze is piercing.

"An accurate assumption. As a justicar, I do little in the way of socializing. Still, your caution is understandable."

"Caution?" Tali tries to straighten up, feeling caught out by the word. "I just... haven't met a justicar before. The only asari I know is only a little over a hundred. I thought it might be good to get to know each other before we work together in the field. On this team, I've really only worked with Garrus so far... I'm Tali, by the way. Tali'Zorah vas Neema."

"I see," the asari says, getting to her feet. When she turns, her eyes are almost white-blue as they catch the light, like kohl-ringed stars. Her jawline is strong; she appears to be all at once a statue and a painting. Tali can't quite hold eye contact with a gaze that intense, so she just flits to look out the viewport instead, grateful once again for her visor protecting her from the mortification of being seen making facial expressions. "I am Samara," says the justicar, holding out a hand. Tali shakes it firmly. "I gave up my surname with all my worldly possessions when I became a justicar. What do you wish to know?"

What _does_ she want to know?

"What are your combat techniques? I'm sure Shepard won't take us both for a mission unless she thinks our skills will work well together, but it will still be good to know what to expect. I'm a combat engineer, for reference." Tali raises her omni-tool and activates the combat drone she's been working on, a lively lilac interface by the name of Chatika vas Paus. Samara's eyes dart to the drone, then back to Tali. She might smile, but it's hard to tell -- she and Thane are similar in that regard. "I can hack synthetics, also. I specialize in geth, but Hahne-Kedar mechs, turrets... anything run by a VI is easy to take control of when you have practice on AI."

"Your abilities sound very useful, given Shepard's many encounters with Eclipse," Samara says, and those bright red pauldrons on her armor shift as she moves. Her voice is clipped and smooth -- efficient, to describe it in a word. "The majority of my power in combat comes from biotics, as you've seen. On my own, I can get creative with dark energy fields, but alongside fellow warriors... I suppose my expertise would fall primarily under crowd control. Knocking enemies off their feet to float in the air, or knocking them aside with great force. I am also quite capable with assault rifles and SMGs."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tali says, filing away a reminder to stay far away from Samara in battle to avoid friendly fire. There's virtually no chance of that happening with Shepard or Garrus -- both are insanely talented snipers, and Shepard prefers the control of a pistol to the unsteadiness of an SMG. Tali paid close attention on Illium -- she switched from her Locust to her Phalanx as soon as the barriers went down on a merc. It's a relationship born of utility, not affection. Not unlike the bond she shares with her modified geth shotgun.

"If you don't mind my asking, how old are you, Tali?"

"24 years," she says, before she has time to get defensive about the question. Tali winces instantly -- she's practically a zygote in asari years. "I've been leading missions for the Conclave and the Admiralty Board for 2."

Her combat drone deactivates after a few more seconds with no hostiles in the area. Samara's gaze lingers a moment longer on her visor before she turns back to sit on the floor in front of the viewport again.

"You are very brave to have made the decision to be here at such a young age." _You should be proud of yourself_ hangs in the air, but it's never spoken. Samara meets Tali's gaze in the reflection off of the view of space, the violet corners of her mouth raised just at the edges before she closes her eyes again, settling back in to meditate, surrounded by the dark energy of her biotics. "You intrigue me, Tali'Zorah. I look forward to seeing how you carry yourself on the battlefield."

* * *

"The MSV Rosalie went down with a survey team and a prototype exploration vehicle," Shepard calls in from the shuttle bay, gripping the edge of the door and practically swinging herself inside and into her seat. "We're also looking for Dr. Manuel Cayce and Dr. Robert O'Loy down there. Apparently they've been doing research for Cerberus, but they conveniently left their subject of their research out of the email. I'm expecting something reckless and unethical."

Tali finds herself sitting across from Jacob in the shuttle down to Zeona -- there hadn't been much time to prepare for this one; Joker claimed that they just happened to be in the area when Shepard got the message, but the quarian can't help but wonder if it isn't like Admiral Hackett's old secret missions, keeping tabs on the Normandy's location and conveniently having errands to run in the area. Tali hooks her heel over an ankle and pointedly looks at the door as it closes behind Shepard.

"Alright, Jacob," Shepard says as the shuttle pulls out of the bay door and down toward the volcanic planet. "What do you know about Project Firewalker?"

"Honestly, Shepard? Not much. If you wanted information on that, you should have brought Miranda." There's something of an unrelenting quality to his voice -- unapologetic, matter of fact, military. Tali automatically thinks of Ashley, then kicks herself for thinking that way. She would _never_ want to be associated with Cerberus like this.

_It's going to be a long day._

"Come _on_ , Jacob, lighten up," Shepard says, kicking lightly at the sole of his boot with her hardsuit. "I knew it was a longshot, but I didn't want a baby monitor on this mission with me, either."

"Baby monitor...?"

Shepard looks to Tali and that's when she realizes she's started looking toward the humans -- it's too late to look away now, damn.

"Old-timey human invention," Shepard supplies, head tilted slightly to one side. "It's like a one-way radio. At a certain volume, the receiver automatically picked up sound and transmitted it freely to a remote speaker. That's more or less what Miranda is, conveying one-way information to the Illusive Man. I'm the baby in this scenario, of course."

Jacob's muffled chuckling gets a little closer to audible at _that_ claim and he crosses his arms as his shoulders shake, trying so hard not to laugh. Tali's biting her lip as well.

"That's so... archaic," Tali gets out -- she thinks she has masked her amusement fairly well, but Shepard rolls her eyes, smiling as she leans back in the seat.

"Humans were still using tech like this up until maybe... a century ago? A century and a half? It's a relic, like this." Shepard holds a hand up to her ear -- a fist, with just the thumb and little finger sticking out, straight to the sides.

"I don't know that one," Tali says, bouncing her heel. "Just the one that's a thumb."

"It's pantomiming an old model of phone, from back before they were wireless," Jacob says, shaking his head a little. It's unusual for a mission-bound shuttle to be full of this much positive attitude on the way to a landing zone. It feels more like a field trip from the Rayya to the Moreh, trying to finish singing a horrible pop song with her schoolmates before the shuttle arrived at the docking cradle. "Even the ones this gesture are based off of went obsolete a long time ago, but human pantomimes tend to stick pretty hard. This one came back after the First Contact War, actually; meant something completely different after we all started getting fitted with omni-tools." He taps his pointer finger over the back of his wrist.

"Old-fashioned timekeeping device," Shepard provides. "A face would show the time and it would be strapped to the wrist like a bracelet. The mime means something like 'I don't have time for this', 'hurry up', 'look at the time', generally it coincides with a facial expression."

"I've never lived in a galaxy where humans weren't part of the community," Tali says, kicking her foot lightly as she looks at Shepard. The human is using some kind of thin black band to keep her hair back and out of her face. "It's hard to remember how new you all are. Quarians have been maintaining a sustainable life on the Migrant Fleet for nearly three centuries now -- I can't even _imagine_ a time when we would have used tech that old. We've been part of the galactic community for nearly... two and a half millennia, now; about as long as the hanar. It's so weird to think humans have only been here for... what, three decades?"

"It's not _that_ wild, you know. Your ground team on Haestrom was using old handheld radios."

"Out of _necessity_ , Shepard. They're inconvenient."

"Yeah, but they _work_. It's like those Tomkahs the krogan use to get around in the sunlight, or the Mako. It's not the best technology we _have_ , but sometimes it's the best we can do. Humans are great at adapting." Shepard stretches, cracking her neck. Jacob winces, pressing his palm against the back of his. "What about quarian gestures? Your people seem pretty expressive, I'm sure there's something 'obsolete' that still means something today."

Tali sighs out through pursed lips, the sound of it carrying over her mic, and she chews slightly at her inner cheek before leaning forward a little, folding both arms straight up and curling her hands into fists. Sticking out both thumbs, she gestures both thumbtips directly behind her and jabs twice in that direction, tilting her head as if to look behind her.

"There's something behind you," Jacob says, confident enough that his guess doesn't sound like he's guessing.

"There's something on your back?" comes Shepard's counter-guess.

"The tech for this one has been outdated since a few decades after the exodus, but people still use it," Tali explains, when it seems they don't have any other guesses. "You drop it into a conversation to imply that the person you're talking about is crazy."

Jacob leans back with his arms crossed, tilting his head just a little. Shepard looks mystified. 

"How does it mean _that?_ " Shepard finally asks, incredulous. She makes a motion of her own -- her pointer finger sits outstretched from her fist and she rotates her whole hand on her wrist, like she's drawing a circle in the air. "Humans do this hand motion instead. As if someone has a screw loose in their head."

Tali snorts at that, rolls her shoulders, and leans back against the seat to get comfortable. The shuttle is surprisingly comfortable, at least compared to the couch in Shepard's quarters. It's wild, the things this organization chooses to prioritize.

"A long, long time ago, before the exodus, quarians only wore envirosuits off-world, doing trade with other species and living abroad to do diplomatic work on the Citadel. The suits didn't have to be optimized for constant, everyday use, and quarians had an embassy back then, so it was easy to buy suit patches and such from hospitals or specialty shops..." Tali clears her throat before she can get too bitter about how times have changed, using her hands to indicate an object roughly the size of a standard air tank. "If quarians got sick from a suit breach, they used to sell these back-mounted containers of sterilized air that would attach to external tubes in the back of old envirosuits; you would carry it around while you were sick. Close off your air receptor like you're in a no-oxygen environment, and the pump would replace the air in your suit with the air in the canister, ensuring you're not breathing contaminated air while you recover."

Shepard tilts her head, squinting.

"And so pointing behind your back with your thumbs mean you're crazy because...?"

"It means you're _sick_. Quarian bodies interpret all foreign bacteria and diseases as an acute allergic reaction -- the symptoms are diverse and extreme. A bad fever can cause hallucinations, temporary memory loss, irritability... so..." Tali points back at her make-believe backpack full of sterile air, the same gesture as before. "'This person must be running a high fever.' They're on an air pump, they're acting crazy right now. Or something like that. Does that make sense?"

"Makes sense to me," Jacob says, shrugging. His tone shifts with the topic, appreciation settling in. "Quarians are tough sons of bitches. The whole damn universe out to get them, but they're still kicking."

Tali crosses her arms, looking back out the viewport. It's _true_ , and she's proud, but she can't verbally agree with him on principle.

"The shuttle is approaching the drop point," EDI chimes in as the vessel decelerates, beginning a purely vertical drop. "Please prepare to disembark."

The black and orange landscape shimmers outside and Tali bites back a sigh of frustration; she hasn't seen magma in person since picking up Liara on Therum, and that wasn't an experience she is especially keen to relive. 

Shepard dons her helmet and Jacob puts on some kind of terribly inefficient-looking breather -- when did those come into fashion? She has no frame of reference; every alien she engaged in trade with after her Pilgrimage was either wearing a helmet or not; there was no middle ground. What if someone tries to shoot him in the head?

Considering how much more kick firearms have since the invention of thermal clip-based weaponry, maybe the helmet wouldn't make a difference.

Zeona is about as hot as a volcanic world is likely to be, and the shuttle pulls away from the planet's surface as soon as it offloads the ground team -- it's not funny, exactly, but Tali is reminded of a snide comment Garrus whispered to her when that researcher on Feros asked Shepard to fetch his research from the geth-infested ExoGeni facility -- "Too lethal for these guys, but fine for us, I guess."

It's amazing how much things manage to stay the same.

"I don't think the ship is safe," a prerecorded message triggers on an intact chunk of the otherwise dessicated MSV Rosalie. A detached part of the hull burns, half-submerged in bubbling magma in the chasm behind them. The ship must have been intact until very recently, or the scrap would have melted by now, no matter how heat-resistant the materials. "We've run into the geth far too often. I'm going to stay at the next site with Dr. O'Loy. I think we'll be safer there."

That must have been Dr. Cayce, then.

The idea that they have been running into geth is troubling -- the Ismar Frontier is in the Attican Traverse -- it's outside of Council Space, sure, but it's not exactly the Terminus Systems, either. Not to mention the fact that Shepard had put down every major geth outpost outside of geth space back in 2183. Tali had been there -- everything checked out, Shepard had agreed to have the navigators scan every planet they passed for geth signals and none had come up. Truly, all of the fight seemed to go out of the geth when Sovereign was killed.

_Not killed. Destroyed._

So why have they been running into geth? Were they skirting the Perseus Veil? Or maybe Cerberus is getting into things they shouldn't be -- studying geth, or maybe they've found something related to the Reapers that would push the geth to act in retaliation. What does this mean?

"Found the exploration vehicle," Shepard calls. Tali hurries over to join up with her and Jacob, admiring it and trying to ignore how hot she is in her suit. This planet's surface temperature is nearly unbearable. A few taps on her omni-tool and the hatch slides open; Tali climbs in after the humans, taking a good look around before she lets herself get settled. Looks like there are mounted cannons.

That's always a nice feature on a research vessel. 

Shepard starts it up and it hovers a few feet off the ground as she takes a moment to familiarize herself with the controls, pulling her helmet off to get a better visual.

"Primary systems online," says a synthesized, masculine voice. "Welcome to the M-44 Hammerhead infantry fighting vehicle. This is your onboard VI. Mission objectives located."

"Seems like the survey team's data packets are scattered around with the debris," Shepard says, carefully pulling the the Hammerhead out of the crate. "I don't think we're going to find them with the Rosalie in pieces, so it we should pick those up before we go."

Tali reflexively kicks a foot out to nudge Jacob's shin where he sits across the way from her, grinning wildly under her helmet. He sharply turns his head to look back at her, brows furrowed -- this is the most familiar she's acted with him so far. The anticipation of schadenfreude at Jacob's expense overrides the nauseous apprehension she feels coming on.

"I'm so excited to be here for your first ride with Shepard," Tali says, securely wrapping her fingers around her armrests. "I hope Cerberus offers good health insurance."

"What are you--"

The Hammerhead jerks forward violently a few feet, and while Tali practically goes flat against the back of her chair, Jacob goes spilling out of his: the quarian has to bring her hands up quickly to keep him from accidentally headbutting her in the stomach at light speed. With her hands on his shoulders he recovers quickly, mouth twisted in a grimace as he gets to his feet and shoulders in behind the driver's seat.

"What the _hell_ , Shepard!"

"Sorry Jacob, you're just going to have to blame Cerberus for that one." She's furiously tapping at the kinetic screen, enabling systems -- oh, Keelah, is that air conditioning? "What kind of human engineers don't count inertial dampeners among their primary systems? Did Cerberus invent time travel? Was this thing programmed by a plague doctor from the dark ages?"

The technical concepts aren't even that complex, but the pure _contempt_ in her voice toward those engineers is incredibly endearing. It's the flip side of their talks about the original Normandy, the passion Shepard has for vehicles rivals what even the most enthusiastic quarian captain could muster up.

Tali tilts her head to one side a little, watching what little she can see of Shepard's face as she turns to apologize to Jacob. The glow of the falling magma in the distance illuminates her hair in a shining, crimson halo around her head. If Tali hadn't come on this mission, she would have missed this. 

It's going to be a long day. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.


	28. Reluctance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are complicated. Relationships are hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient! I have no idea why this took so long, I feel like I sat down to write it every day and nothing happened. I really want to write this story for you guys though, and for myself, so I'm going to do my best not to give up, even when it gets hard. Thank you for supporting me!

Jacob is very normal, actually; Tali just has to get past the Cerberus logo on his chest. Former Alliance — she thinks, or perhaps just contracted by the Alliance under the table? It was hard to pay perfect attention while Shepard was driving — just looking for a way to actually _change_ something in the wake of the Battle of the Citadel. Like her, like Garrus, like Wrex. It’s a common story among the remnant’s of Shepard’s old team, but with the way the Council backpedaled on the Reaper theories when Shepard was declared killed in action, it's surprising that the work they had done in 2183 had any sort of far-reaching effect beyond the crew of the SR-1. The media found it easier to rally the galaxy against the geth than to investigate such a wild claim, which only made it harder for quarian pilgrims who are shouldering the blame for the existence of the synthetics, yet again, centuries later.

That concept Chambers had suggested when Tali had joined seems to ring truer than she had thought possible, and it’s more disturbing than reassuring -- moreso that she has to keep _relearning_ the concept at this age. People do things for their own reasons, and if you don't know them, you can't make an educated guess at the _why_. It's easy to assume every member of Cerberus is a human supremacist. It's easy to view them as a homogeneous monolith, a five-fingered galactic hand moving in sync toward a single goal, always acting toward a single interest. Cerberus proudly stands behind their acts of terrorism. Even so, Kelly doesn't inject thresher maw acid into the veins of Alliance soldiers. Jacob doesn't clone rachni in a lab. Dr. Chakwas certainly doesn't experiment on Thorian creepers.

But for a _fraction_ of the funding the shipwrights must have gotten to recreate the most advanced frigate ever made -- would it be worth it, to bite the hand that feeds you? The tech, the experience, the compensation -- even knowing about Cerberus, the offers must be enticing. Pilgrims get roped into shifty, dangerous jobs all of the time -- any travel is good travel, any chance to earn some credits or find a Pilgrimage gift is treated as dearly as eezo.

If it funded her wildest engineering dreams, could _she_ have taken their money, if she were human? If Tali had the resources and status to coordinate several simultaneous missions to those sites of interest before Shepard died, maybe the Migrant Fleet could have gotten some evidence of the Reapers. They could have started making contingency plans, or gone to the Council with something more concrete than the word of the least-liked Spectre. It's easy to take the high moral standing when your people are fighting to survive on scraps in a decaying way of life on the edge of a star system. It's not as if there are any quarian billionaires out there, giving out grants to promising young pilgrims.

People are complicated. It’s part of why quarian society places so much importance on selflessness in the community, why a handful of marines were willing to die on Freedom’s Progress to save one young man. Each person is an irreplaceable cache of memories, skills, relationships, and traditions. Every person brings something new to the table. That's true here, as well -- even just Ken and Gabby are enough to convince her of that, but it's so hard to see beyond that uniform.

It still keeps her awake, working with Cerberus. Tali can only imagine what it's been doing to Shepard.

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Update**   
>  **From: Shala’Raan vas Tonbay**
> 
> My dear girl,
> 
> Things have been busy back home. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner, but I’m sure you understand. I didn’t want to say anything, but I must say I’m relieved to hear that there are so many other non-humans in Shepard’s circle. I’ve never heard of a justicar leaving asari space, whatever you’re working on must be bigger than I was led to believe. Be careful.
> 
> Nothing big has happened on the Neema, but I thought you might like to hear how things are going back home. Your father seems to be in a rut with his work, lately. It might do him some good to hear from you, if you find the time. Kal’Reegar is still being treated for his injuries on Haestrom, but he's expected to make a full recovery before long. It strikes me now that I never asked if you had been hurt on your mission — I was so upset over the way you left, and so worried about the consequences. I should have checked up on you. I hope you can forgive me.
> 
> Sula’Vael vas Nalotir asked after you, she said you brought her on that mission you had in the Antaeus system a few months back. I told her I’d let her know if I heard anything, she seemed worried that you’d gotten yourself into trouble. I still hope you haven’t. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to pass along to her.
> 
> I find myself wondering after you nearly every day, now. I’m sure you are saving the galaxy out there, but hurry it up, if you can. Your aunt misses you.
> 
> With love,
> 
> Shala

* * *

“He’s not that bad, I guess.”

“Mhm.”

“I mean, he’s actually pretty decent. A decent guy, I mean, considering everything. Well-meaning.”

“Yeah?”

“I first saw him on Freedom’s Progress, actually. He suggested Cerberus interrogate the pilgrim I’d come to rescue, so I guess we got off on the wrong foot? I wanted to hit him so badly at the time, but he could have broken me in half.”

"Mm."

"Are you listening to me?"

“...and then he told you to introduce yourself to EDI when you boarded, and you decided he was your least favorite human on this ship.”

Tali scoffs, lowering her shoulders as she watches the turian at work. The deep hum in the main battery shakes her down to her bones; she figured out early on not to set down her can of water, or it would rattle loudly against the metal. She can only theorize about what it does to Garrus, with the way turians hear sound. Is it comforting? Or is it just something he deals with?

“Did I really complain about that?”

“You had a lot to say after we picked you up on Haestrom, Tali. As I recall, I was the ‘only person you could trust’ on this ‘frigate of liars’.” Garrus stands up a little straighter from the console after inputting commands from his omni-tool; the main cannon makes a nearly inaudible sound as it shifts and settles.

“How do you spend so much time up here? I spend less time in engineering than you do in the main battery, and I’m Chief Engineer, now.”

“You have a team. Plus, it affords me some _space_.”

Tali turns her head conspicuously as he turns to stare pointedly at her, pretending not to notice his gaze. He’d tried to brush her initial intrusion off with a _not right now,_ but she’d merely disabled the kinetic recognition and hoisted herself up to sit on his secondary console, sipping at her canned water. He isolated himself on the SR-1 as well, always tinkering with that damned Mako until she practically dragged him up to the mess to civilize like an actual person. He's doing it again here, and sure, she gets it, but if _she_ has to make peace with Cerberus, he has no excuse not to try. He's been here longer.

This team is no SR-1, but they deserve the same chance. Almost everyone here is a volunteer, just like the SR-1, but this time, the threat isn't even to galactic civilization -- it's just humans. The other aliens here, at least, deserve credit for volunteering for something that has nothing to do with them. There _has_ to be good in them, even if they keep to themselves.

Basic manners aside, Garrus should rest his eyes, get out of the battery. Even by Tali's standards, his screen time is excessive.

“So have you talked to Thane, yet?”

“I don’t get out much.”

“Good! You already have something in common.”

Garrus tilts his head back to her, flicks his good mandible at her in what could be a smirk, or a scowl. Either one is something, but the fusion of pride and exhaustion in his voice suggests the former.

“More than one thing, I’d guess.”

"Oh?" Tali crushes the empty can in her hand so it will fit into one of her pockets, leaning toward him like she's expecting a secret. "What is _that_ supposed to mean? You both use sniper rifles?"

"Well, that and dispensing vigilante justice for free like a dual-chirality soup kitchen." He flips off the kinetic recognition on the main console, leans his body heavily into it, turns to face her full on. _Good_. He might have winked just now, but it's _so_ hard to tell. "No civilian casualties as the baseline. His work at the Dantius Towers were a little sloppy, but not for lack of effort, and Shepard's presence didn't exactly make it easier. It's hard to control all the variables on your own."

"You sound like you know what that's like," Tali says, pulling one knee up under her chin, visibly settling in, urging him to continue. She's picked up a few things from her weekly chats about _The Lower Wards_ with Kelly. "Controlling all the variables on your own, I mean."

Garrus shifts pretty drastically, for him -- his head tilts down with his shoulders and he seems to almost sigh, dragging an armored foot along the ground, the soft pads on the bottom muting the sound of friction. As long as she's known him, Garrus has tended to keep his posture attentive; even when he's relaxing, he seems tense. Maybe it's just a turian thing, Tali doesn't have the lived experience to know. It only lasts for a moment before he snaps back into position, though. She'd say he seems tired, but it's more than that. It's like he's waiting for something; if his eyes aren't in his scope, they're on his omni-tool, or on these consoles.

It's taking a lot out of him. He and Shepard are looking more ragged every day.

"I... you know. We all did our own thing after the SR-1 went down." He rolls his shoulders and leans back on the console, tense and relaxed all at once, a bundle of contradictions. "I went to Omega."

He doesn't follow up on that on his own. Tali just watches for a moment, taking him in -- the way he looks at her, the way he seems to wait for her to follow. Everyone else on this ship seems to know what's going on with him except her.

"You must have hated that," she offers, tilting her head a little to one side to telegraph something -- sympathy? Curiosity? His mandibles flare out lightly like a brief chuckle and he runs his fingers over his crest.

"Yeah. I did. It kept me going, though; the hate." He sighs for real this time and it's heavy, a long pause. He looks up at the ceiling, but he doesn't look back at Tali when he continues, staring out over the main gun. "It woke me up every day. It drove me, kept me from... dissolving, disappearing. I was lucky enough to find like-minded individuals. Built up a team, went after the heads of all the major gangs on Omega. It was kind of nice to be hated so much by someone that wasn’t my boss, for once.”

Realization dawns behind the mask. She remembers stylized, winged graffiti in the Omega markets--

_Roun'Marrin whistles appreciatively, leaning back against a piece of religious-looking street art while Tali waits for one of the sellers to get back from checking that their shipment of parts came in. "About a year ago, we needed twice as many marines for one of these trips. You're lucky you started running missions for the Conclave when you did, Tali; Omega's practically a cakewalk, nowadays."_

_"It's that Archangel bastard," a bitter batarian voice cuts in, unceremoniously dropping a small crate of parts on the counter in front of Tali. "Some do-no-wrong moron who thinks he can clean up these streets, scrubbing all the scum off the floors of Omega like a saucy little maid. Goes after all the merc groups like they're politicians on the Presidium. He'll be devastated when he finds out Omega is scum all the way down, though. Nothing under it, not a pure soul no matter how much you clean."_

_"Sounds like it's personal," Tali says with disinterest, inspecting the parts in the crate. So soon after throwing herself back into her work, it's hard to be sympathetic. Shepard's death still weighs heavy on her mind -- would she be proud of her, running errands for the flotilla? What would she do, if she were here? "Did you lose someone?"_

_"Just my idiot brother," the batarian replies, shrugging with a surprising amount of nonchalance. Four eyes watch her hands as she turns the tech around in her hands. "He was a Sun, though, so that's on him. Archangel was already making a name for himself before he joined up, so it's not like he didn't know what might happen. Like I said, he was an idiot."_

_"Sounds like it," Tali agrees, setting the pieces back in the crate and looking up at him. "Everything seems in order, I'll sign for these."_

“I did some work for the Conclave on Omega. I should have _known_ you were Archangel, as soon as I heard stories.” She pauses again, bobbing her head lightly from side to side as she contemplates her wording. “I mean, if I’d known you were on Omega, I _would_ have guessed it.”

Garrus laughs dryly, reaching to tweak some numbers on the main console, only for the display not to react to his fingers -- the kinetic recognition is still disabled. He retracts the hand, as if trying to go unnoticed. Tali is polite enough to turn her head away, like she couldn't possibly have noticed.

“Well, good to know the one person who could have sniffed out my secret identity from the get-go was wearing a heavy duty olfactory filter.”

A few years ago, she would have given him the silent treatment for a joke like that, but it's actually a good one, for once. Tali snorts, tilting her head forward, as if to hide her face. Garrus tilts his head when he looks back at her, one mandible raised in a crooked smile. 

"So _that_ joke landed. Good to know."

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Update**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Dear Auntie Raan,
> 
> It's okay that you didn't check up on me after Haestrom. Dr. Chakwas from the SR-1 is aboard the SR-2 to help Shepard with her mission, and I trust her to take care of me if I get hurt. That reminds me, I should try to get the schematics for the medical interface they use in the Normandy's med-bay, I remember being impressed with the SR-1's setup and I think we could learn something from them. I was able to take a cranial scan in 2183 without a clean room, isn't that amazing? Imagine how much more efficient our medical ships could be!
> 
> You can tell Sula'Vael whatever you'd like, it's up to you. Just be careful what you share, she's civilian through and through, she scares easily.
> 
> I'm glad Kal is on the road to recovery, but I hope it isn't much longer for him. He doesn't strike me as the kind of person who's much good at sitting still. 
> 
> We're going as fast as we can. It's hard, having to wait for the Collectors to make moves before we can follow up on them. Saren at least left behind mercs and commandos we could interrogate when he was gone... I watched some of Garrus' combat footage from Horizon. The way they move makes me think of geth more than mercenaries, and they seem exceptionally well organized. My working theory is that they have some kind of subdermal combustible weave going on; they seem to disintegrate into ash when they die, even if they die to blunt force. They're always trading their advanced technology for whatever horrible experiments they're running, but it's terrifying to think that they even have advanced methods of carrying out suicidal terrorism.
> 
> The galaxy will be safer once we've stopped them, and if the best thing I can give to the flotilla is a safer galaxy, then I think it's worth the time away from home. I hope you understand.
> 
> I miss you every day. I love you so much!
> 
> Tali

* * *

> **Subject: [no subject]**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Father,
> 
> It's been a while since we've spoken. My human captain has been keeping me busy, but not with anything interesting enough to write home about. The most interesting thing that's happened this month is finding a log in the wreckage of a felled merchant ship in the Ismar Frontier that claimed the passengers were running across geth. No actual evidence of geth, but I'm not willing to dismiss the claim out of hand, considering the things I know and how scarce evidence is on that front.
> 
> How is everything going with your team? I know you can't talk about your work, but let me know if there's anything I can do to help.
> 
> I love you, and I'm doing everything I can to make you proud out here.
> 
> Your devoted daughter,
> 
> Tali'Zorah

* * *

> **Subject: RE: [no subject]**   
>  **From: Rael'Zorah vas Alarei**
> 
> My dearest daughter,
> 
> I believe that you are acting honorably on the behalf of our people and the galactic community. You need never fear that I don't know that.
> 
> There is actually something you can do for me, if you could spare the time. I need more materials for my work, and you're more likely to run into active geth than I am. If you find any safe pieces to send back, anything at all, it would be extremely useful. I appreciate the discretion, and I regret that I can't tell you more. Send me a message if you find anything and I'll send a retrieval shuttle to wherever you can leave your parcels, exactly like your Pilgrimage.
> 
> You always make me proud.
> 
> Rael'Zorah

* * *

> **[Shepard]** : We're heading to Illium to take care of some unfinished business for Miranda.  
>  **[Tali]** : Of course. Do you want me to do extensive maintenance on the engines while we're docked?  
>  **[Shepard]** : No. Leave Donnelly in charge when we dock, I need you on my ground team.  
>  **[Tali]** : Is that a good idea?  
>  **[Shepard]** : Do you have an actual issue with this, or are you just talking?  
>  **[Shepard]** : If you have a grievance, we can discuss it seriously like adults and I can change my plans.  
>  **[Tali]** : Just talking, I guess.  
>  **[Tali]** : It isn't the choice I would have made.  
>  **[Shepard]** : I'm in the armory, if you want to chat.  
>  **[Tali]** : Very well. Meet you there.

* * *

"Is it okay to be in here, talking about this?"

Shepard doesn't look up at her, piecing together her modified Locust as she moves on to the next set of guns on the workbench.

"Jacob is in the mess eating a protein-packed lunch for the next 15 minutes at least, then he showers for at least 5. Didn't Garrus get you an extraordinarily accurate ship schedule?"

“I just don't know why you want _me_ for this, if it's Miranda's personal business.” Tali hovers around the door to the armory as Shepard takes her precious time double-checking everyone's loadouts. The Normandy is only an hour off Illium, and quarian boots are expected on the ground when they get there. “I don’t know her, and she didn't exactly make the best first impression on Freedom's Progress. We haven't worked together since then, and I haven't even really spoken to her. Maybe someone closer to home would be a better fit...?”

“You mean Jacob,” Shepard muses, switching from Mordin's sidearm to Tali’s loadout. She hasn’t gotten into her hardsuit yet, and Tali approaches cautiously, feeling a little protective of her own maintenance.

“I wouldn’t want a stranger prodding their nose in my business,” Tali agrees, hovering around the weapons bench. Shepard’s nails are short and clean, probably for this very purpose. The hands -- _gloves_ \-- of older quarian marines and engineers are permanently marred with various oils and coolants; products have been invented to help clean the eco suit for vanity purposes, but old folks still joke that you can tell if someone is a hard worker by how badly tarnished their gloves are. Shepard's gloves would be lousy with stains, if she were quarian. It's a little harder to accidentally stain skin.

“Sometimes it’s better to involve a stranger in your personal issues than a close friend,” Shepard says, breaking Tali from her train of thought. “It’s easier to prioritize your goals instead of trying to make sure you look good in front of someone you care about. In the Citadel Tower... it would have been hard for me to send those human soldiers in to protect the Destiny Ascension if Kaidan had been by my side instead of you and Garrus. I still would have done it, and he always told me I'd done the right thing, but... it would have been harder, knowing he was watching me make that choice.”

Shepard hasn't talked about Kaidan since Tali joined, and she muscles through it with a stark normalcy like she does everything else -- bodily reconstruction, deadly missions, forging a path ahead through sheer determination. The geth technology comes apart under her fingertips and she inspects each piece, setting them aside. Tali is nearly bowled over by a sudden wave of deja vu — she just can’t quite place the memory. The flotilla, before a mission? The SR-1?

“I can understand that,” Tali relents, gently pressing her palm to Shepard's shoulder. The human tenses up under her touch before relaxing a little, leaning into it, breathing out. She always has to be the bigger person, thinking of everyone before herself. It must be exhausting. "Long before Freedom's Progress, I led a mission to... Trebin, I think. It's been a while. There was a well-decorated marine from a distinguished family on my team, and... I was so excited to be taken seriously by the admirals, so anxious to embarrass myself after I didn't turn up anything on Solcrum. It was a lot of pressure."

"Were they cute?" Shepard nudges Tali with her shoulder, smiling back at her.

"The _admirals?_ "

"The marine!"

Tali flushes and sputters, flinching at the accusation -- relieved she hadn't mentioned it was someone Shepard had met.

"Shepard, that is _so_ far from the point of this anecdote--!"

The human laughs as she leans against Tali, and the quarian mourns that she can't touch her palms to her cheek to feel the flush, or frown and have her feelings seen and understood. 

"That's alright. Still want me to replace you with Jacob on this mission?"

Tali sighs, crossing her arms as she sulks.

"No. I'll go. I'm a team player and I love making friends with Cerberus." There's a sarcastic edge to the last bit, but the rest is sincere, and Shepard seems to relax at the promise of maturity.

“Good, because Jacob has his own things to worry about right now, anyway. He's due for a field trip of his own.” Shepard finally turns back from grinning at Tali to inspect the modified barrel of her plasma shotgun, a suggestion from Wrex that Tali had followed up on, and she smiles appreciatively as she pieces the whole thing back together. It warms the quarian's heart, to see her alterations regarded so fondly. “Besides, it’s Illium. If we run into trouble, it _will_ be with Eclipse. Who else am I supposed to trust with a wave of mechs while I’m lining up my shots? Garrus?”

Tali snickers, sticking her chest out and running her hand over imaginary fringe.

"Those salarian deviants activated a drone within 20 feet of me! Don't they know that's rude?"

Shepard follows suit with the impression, rolling her shoulders in an uncanny impression, gesturing with feigned disgust at an imaginary drone on the ground.

"How am I supposed to get a headshot on _this_ tactical abomination? It doesn't even have a brain! Or a self-preservation instinct!"

Tali sighs theatrically when they get past their giggles, setting her hands on her hips.

“I get it, it has to be me, and I _suppose_ it would be bad for the mission if a FENRIS mech broke your shin in half. You would keep Dr. Chakwas up all night.”

"That's the spirit!" Shepard gently knocks the heel of her boot against Tali's lower leg, grinning back at her again. "My life and shins are in your hands."


	29. The Good Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali participates in a mission to Illium and gets to know a little more about her personal Cerberus bogeyman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This comes so late, and I'm not sure I'll ever be happy with this chapter, but here it is. Thank you so much for your patience. Since the last chapter I've started an accelerated term at school, come down with bronchitis, and... come down with bronchitis again. It's been hard to work through this one, but I hope you like it.

As predicted, quarian boots touch down on Illium when they land, just behind two pairs of human boots. The Normandy has hardly even settled before Tali spots movement.

When the krogan approaches, Shepard folds her arms behind her back in a deliberate show of nonaggression, discretely ushering Tali and Miranda back toward the Normandy with her obscured hands. Though the two comply, Tali can’t help but be a little nervous — an engineer and a biotic aren’t exactly the best team to beat down a krogan, even if he seems to be unarmed and in civilian gear. Shepard is more than capable of protecting herself, but her talents aren’t exactly specialized for fending off krogan within headbutting radius.

“Relax, you’re embarrassing yourself,” Miranda mutters, hand on her hip. Her dark hair tumbles over her shoulder like an expensive water feature, pointless and beautiful. “Illium security wouldn’t let a krogan with a record on planet, let alone into this docking bay.”

Initial introductions are made and Shepard changes the way she holds herself; just from the way her back moves, the position of her hips and head relative to her shoulders, Tali can determine the nature of the conversation. Brief, friendly, professional, polite. That firm line on the commander’s jaw is as close as she gets to relaxing, and Tali follows her lead.

“You would just let an unknown quantity get that close to her? It doesn’t bother you?” Though she can’t keep a note of disbelief from her voice, Tali does manage to keep it down to a whisper.

“If he lays a hand on her, he becomes yet another Illium cold case. I’m not worried, and neither should you be.” Miranda's words are too cold for how casually she says them, how bored she looks, but her long, thin fingers curl tight on her waist when the krogan reaches forward. She hasn’t figured out Shepard's states of readiness by sight alone just yet, and there’s something about the realization that makes Tali feel a little more special.

Shepard shakes his hand. They seem to part on amicable terms and Miranda gravitates to Shepard’s right side, Tali to her left, tilting her head at a nearly comical angle to signal curiosity. Shepard smiles almost imperceptibly, rolling her eyes as she leads them out onto the Nos Astra trading floor.

“Don’t worry about it, Tali. Just a friend I made when we were running those errands for Detective Anaya.”

“A friend? Or a _friend?_ ”

She freezes up as soon as she says it — jokes like these are the reflexive backbone of casual conversation on the flotilla, but with the situation with Kaidan—

“A friend-friend, thank you very much,” Shepard mercifully interrupts Tali’s panic attack, not seeming terribly offput. “Mr. Thax seems well-connected, folks like that tend to give me a hard time. It’s nice to be thanked, for once.”

“Thax? As in Thax Vorak?” Miranda repeats incredulously, but her tone shifts back to her standard in an instant — wry, distant. “My, Shepard. You do manage to make the most interesting friends in the strangest places.”

“Pretty sure that’s why you brought me back, Miranda.”

“I have a message for Miss Lawson,” EDI interjects at a natural lull in the conversation. It creeps Tali out. “Lanteia has reserved a room at Eternity and is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, EDI.”

Tali really should get used to EDI and its interruptions. This is a mission, after all.

* * *

"You didn't mention anything about Niket," Shepard mentions, jumping off of something Lanteia had said offhandedly. Miranda's asari contact seems professional and cool under pressure; neither the entourage nor the interrogation seem to phase her.

"He's a friend," Miranda says, waving the comment off. "He and I go back -- a long way."

She hesitates as she says it -- uncharacteristic of her, as far as Tali knows. It's difficult to imagine Miranda having friends, but it isn't as if Tali has put in the effort she has with other crew members to see her any differently than their admittedly terrible first impressions of each other. She and Jacob supposedly know each other from a while back, but they're hardly the picture of friendship, either -- more like familiar coworkers. She's cold and distant, locks herself away in her cabin, answering to no one. Who knows what she's really working on in her office. Perhaps a brand new ethical nightmare for Cerberus to pursue?

"Do you want to bring in any of your other Illium contacts, Ms. Lawson?"

"No, you and Niket are the only two I trust on this."

"What information do you have about the mercenaries?" Shepard asks.

"I've confirmed that they're Eclipse, and that they're working for an organization Ms. Lawson warned us about," Lanteia remarks, her delivery nearly toneless. Tali can see how she might get along with Miranda. "I could try to alert the authorities, but so far, they've done nothing illegal."

"You made the right decision," Miranda says, too quickly. "We'll handle this ourselves."

* * *

"Captain Enyala's already moving in on the kid. She knows about Niket, he won't be helping you."

"What do you mean, Niket won't be helping us?"

"Nothing _you_ need to worry about," the merc gestures vaguely with one hand, almost lazily. He has no idea who he's talking to. Tali watches as Shepard's eyes flit back, her gaze lingering far behind this mouthy merc. There's something out there to worry about. "Nobody's going to get killed unless you do something stupid. You walk away now, the girl goes back to her father, and everybody's happy."

"Wait, Miranda," Shepard's brows are furrowed together as she turns to the biotic. "You said she was your twin sister."

" _That_ what she told you?" Tali doesn't like Eclipse on the best of days, but hearing the loathing that pours out of this merc sends shivers up her spine. Such an evil creature can hold Miranda in contempt? The other human has gone stiff. "No, this crazy bitch kidnapped our boss' _baby_ daughter. He's been looking for her for more than a decade."

"It's complicated," Miranda pleads, looking vulnerable for once even as she goes on the defense. "We share the same DNA, just not the same birthday."

"You took a _baby_ from the richest guy in the galaxy, lady. I don't know what your damage is, but you're not getting away with it."

"You're not getting Miranda's sister," Shepard bites back. Tali's fingers twitch by her side, unsure if this is the right thing to do. "If you push this, it'll go badly for you."

The merc pushes it, like they all do.

The Commander makes good on her promise.

* * *

"Shepard... I think I owe you an explanation," Miranda starts. Tali has resolved not to get involved in her business aside from keeping her alive, as per mission parameters, but she perks up a little. If there is a satisfactory explanation for kidnapping a baby away from her father and lying to her captain about it, she would love to hear it.

Shepard is stoic as she slows to a stop, eyes stern, but not harsh. Rachni, geth, that damned VI on Luna... there isn't a creature despicable enough to keep her from pitying it. Miranda included.

"Oriana is my twin, genetically. But my father... grew her, when I was a teenager."

Tali had... _known._

Theoretically, she had known. The writing was on the wall, but she had been too stubborn to read it.

"She was meant to replace me. I couldn't let my father do to her what he'd done to me. So I rescued her."

Even with a skeleton crew, even between Cerberus and aliens, gossip is airborne -- it wafts through the ducts, permeates every corner of the ship. Miranda's extensive genetic modifications, her hand-tailored biotics, her perfection (and all the implications thereof, courtesy of Engineer Donnelly) -- it was impossible to spend more than a week aboard the SR-2 without knowing about her supposed perfection through osmosis. So taken was Tali with the image of that smug, looming figure from Freedom's Progress, she hadn't taken a moment to think about where it came from. Who brought her into this galaxy? Who had conceptualized this perfect woman, who had paid for the tailoring, the biotics, who had _bought_ her?

"She's almost a woman, now."

"I understand wanting to go your own way," Shepard says, tone more careful than her words, "but you stole a young child from her father."

"If you knew my father, you would understand." Miranda turns away, and Tali is grateful, for once, to feel invisible in this equation. She can practically feel the chill in the air through her suit. "I wasn't the first one he made. I was only the first one he _kept_. I was brought up with no friends, pushed to meet impossible demands. I wasn't a daughter to him, I... don't know what I was."

Her dark brows knit together for a split second before she shakes it off, turning back, defiant.

"Oriana has had a normal life. I made the right decision."

"If Eclipse knows where Oriana is, they'll be moving in on her soon." Shepard seems nearly unphased by the explanation, as if she'd known this all along. She reverts back to mission mode in an instant. "We need to hurry."

"Agreed," Miranda follows, eyes bright, alert. Tali tries to shake off the weight of what she just heard, as well. "I'm a bit worried by what the merc said. If they've got to Niket somehow, this is going to be harder than I'd planned. According to the specs I reviewed, we'll need to cut through the cargo processing yard to get to Oriana."

"I hope your friend can be trusted," Shepard muses.

"Absolutely. Niket is one of my oldest friends. I guess you could say he was my only real friend." Her face is soft in a way Tali has never seen before. The effect Shepard has on people is really something to behold. "He's the only person I didn't cut ties with when I left my father."

"Is there a chance your father could be using Niket to get to you?"

"I'm sure he's tried, but Niket is one of the few people who understands what my father is really like. I trusted him with my _life_ when I ran away from my father, Shepard. He won't betray me now."

* * *

Tali is applying medi-gel to the shot she took to the leg mere moments before Shepard downs the last merc, wincing as she looks over the damage to her suit.

"Niket has reached the terminal," comes a harsh, feminine voice from the comms they'd patched in. "He'll switch the family over to our transport."

"Niket? But..." Miranda's voice sounds so small, but it's only for an instant, kicking aside the body of an Eclipse merc as she strides toward the elevator with fire in her eyes. Shepard and Tali are quick to trail behind her, neither wanting to be the cause of delay. Tali leans against the side of the elevator to make a hasty patch job with a seal from her pockets, eyeing the floor number as they ascend. "That can't be right. Maybe the captain knows we're listening in and she's feeding misinformation about Niket making a switch. Or maybe it means something else. Niket wouldn't _do_ that!"

The sound of jazzy elevator music is the backdrop for her existential crisis for only a few moments before she fries the speakers with her omni-tool. 

* * *

Miranda's reunion with her old friend is bloody, but most of the blood is alien -- the blue of asari commandos, the green of salarian engineers, a few human mercs, but all of it is across the bay, across from the position where they'd defended themselves.

One stain of bright, human red in front of the elevator they arrived in, surrounded by a pristine white floor. The sight of it reminds her of when Keenah'Breizh had been shot on the Presidium -- whoever cleans up here will have no idea what happened. Just bodies to be identified, shipped away.

Stains for drones to scrub away so that work can resume tomorrow.

* * *

Tali leans in against the elevator to the main floor as she patches her suit breach, and Miranda is quick to join her, even as Shepard takes a moment to scavenge the floor -- never impeding their progress enough that her team can chide her for it, but always a noticeable detour. Her head is held low when Shepard takes over their route, the insecurity in her posture foreign, alien.

"I can't believe Niket sold me out. I never saw it coming."

"Even with all your upgrades, you're human, just like the rest of us."

 _Guess you’re just human like the rest of us,_ Ashley's voice bubbles up in Tali's memory, the real meaning of that moment had been lost on her.

If to be human is to be flawed, then what is a _perfect_ human supposed to be?

"But I let it get personal... and I _screwed_ up. Why didn't you let me kill him, I could have handled that. But watching him get gunned down by that asari bitch..."

"You still cared for him," Shepard says, soft. "Even if he betrayed you."

"You're right. And my father knew it. He used that against me." Miranda won't look at Shepard, years of bitterness spilling out as she curls her fingers into her palms, harder, harder, enough that her hands will be stiff tomorrow. "It's always been like this. My father gave me anything I ever wanted, but there was always a hook, an angle for his long-term plan. I threw away everything he ever gave me when I ran."

She shrugs, finally, her brows worried, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she speaks. 

"Except Niket. Weakness on my part."

"You still have Oriana," Shepard reminds her, and Miranda looks like she's about to shake her head.

"My father didn't give her to me. I rescued her. But... yes. You're right. I still have something."

Cruelly, the thought crosses Tali's mind that Shepard has proved her point, already. Miranda has flaws and fears, just like anybody.

It's self-centered, and the more she tries to hastily bury the thought in her mind, the more it self-replicates. Shepard can care about anyone this much - about everyone.

Maybe it's childish, but Tali feels relieved to have been included in this -- a detour for such a personal matter.

If society breaks down to the point where helping family isn't a top priority, does the galaxy deserve to be saved from the Reapers?

* * *

"No sign of Eclipse," Miranda informs Shepard, authoritative as she finishes her sweep. "It looks like we're clear."

The genetically perfect human seems so much smaller standing in the shadows, watching from afar. Though they share a face, Oriana’s is younger, brighter, open. Her mother seems to ask her a question and she laughs, eyes pinched shut and fingers curling into the spaceworthy material of her dress over her chest. It’s Miranda’s face, but a completely unknown entity wears it, nearly doubled over in laughter. She might have guessed Miranda's face was incapable of making expressions like that before today.

"There she is. She's safe... with her family."

Miranda looks lost, if that’s possible. Maybe it’s cruel, but Tali can't help but wonder if there’s any sense of jealousy in her at the sight of it all. If Miranda had been the younger of the two, this could have been her life, instead. A normal girl, a normal family.

Tali’s chest tightens a little as the girl's mother laughs at her response, wrapping Oriana in a hug. A kiss to her forehead. Tali touches her hands to her upper arms and moves to shift her weight from one leg to the other, but a bolt of pain seizes her wounded leg -- she catches herself from stumbling and leans back harder on her good leg, letting her arms fall to her side and chewing her lip to distract from the ache.

"Come on," Miranda continues, suddenly, looking down at the ground, like she can't bear to watch. A melancholy note rings from her voice -- but what is it? Guilt? Resignation? Remorse? "We should go."

Tali feels something unpleasant well up inside her: certainly the circumstances are intricate, but for Miranda to so quickly run and hide from her family because it's convenient--

Shepard's eyes are too soft on the other human, searching her face through the blue glow of her visor. Miranda is nearly a head taller, but the way her hair falls around her face seems to shrink her, somehow.

"Don't you even want to say hello?"

Shepard says it quietly, as if to a child, or a mourning civilian -- not a seasoned combatant, certainly not a Cerberus project leader who brushes aside recent war crimes like they're outdated gossip.

"It's not about what I want, it's about what's right for _her_." Her barrier is down, just for the moment -- Tali sees black-gloved fingers tense as Miranda goes to grip her own arm, but she stops herself. Fingers curl into her fists, and were they bare, her nails would leave red half-moons in her palms. Tali knows that feeling well: surging emotion, but physical reaction is numbed by the layers. The act of trying to feel something through the material is enough to knock the wind out of you. "The less she knows about me, the better. She's got a family, a _life_. I'll just complicate that for her."

Shepard is unimpressed, arms crossed as she looks out across the floor at Oriana, then back to Miranda.

"She doesn't need any details, but would it really be so bad for her to know she has a sister who loves her?"

The other human's fists tighten before they relax, fingers slowly uncurling from her hands as she stares at them.

Miranda turns to Shepard, an uncertain smile adorning her face.

"...I guess not."

"Go on," Shepard urges, clapping a hand on Tali's shoulder. The touch is sudden, unexpectedly welcome -- she hadn't realized how much she had been missing touch. Tali finds herself leaning into Shepard, taking comfort in the closeness. The relief from putting weight on her leg is nice, too. "We'll wait here."

* * *

The ten minutes they spend there seem to simultaneously stretch out forever and end before Tali can even blink. Shepard doesn't let go, and Tali makes no move to move away, turning her helmet to rest against the top of Shepard's head, both of them watching carefully to make sure nothing disturbs the Lawson reunion.

Whether they can't or shouldn't, neither breaks the contact or silence until Miranda returns.

It's been a long day.

* * *

On the way off the Nos Astra trading floor, Shepard stops to interrupt an asari on comms, folding a nondescript locket into her hand.

The stranger falls apart in an instant, clutching the cheap metal so tight it should burn deep purple bruises into the soft tissue between the segments of her fingers.

"Thank you, thank you so much... my daughter was young when he died. This is the only memento she has of him..."

Miranda raises a curled hand to her mouth and turns her head like she's trying politely not to cough, but the red of her eyes and the traces of stray mascara betray another reason for her aversion.

It's too much. It's too much all at once, she's already cried once today.

Tali goes to touch the human's side, but something stops her.

* * *

"Writing your last will and testament?" Dr. Chakwas asks, and there's a humor to her voice that pulls Tali out of her head -- Chatika's suit sterilization protocols are cleaning her non-dominant hand while the quarian absentmindedly ponders her email, meanwhile a human doctor is treating her wound with levels of sterility and care that would make the crew of the Tiral Azhana blush, and Tali can't even be bothered to pay attention. "I can guarantee you I didn't get too much dirt in there."

Chakwas is an enigma, and Tali has to admire how well the doctor can read her despite the complete lack of facial recognition. Her flippant jokes remind Tali of Raan trying to make her laugh after a hard day of testing, and her heart is homesick again. Her eyes return to the email, but she gently tilts her head up toward Chakwas to indicate that she heard her.

"It's just a letter home. The crew here isn't as big as I'm used to, so it's nice to read something familiar from time to time."

"I can understand that. It will be... nice, if I can return to service with the Alliance after our mission with Shepard. Some of the ensigns here have spirit that reminds me of home, but it's just not the same as being with _my_ people."

She says it in a way that's so wistful that Tali feels nostalgic for the SR-1 -- the vast cavern of the cargo hold and armory, the mere yards between the engineering panels and the drive core. Tali would wake up and fall asleep shaken to the bone, only stumbling back to life when her feet would touch down on solid ground.

And her late night conversations with Engineer Adams... he chose not to be here.

Tali touches her freshly cleaned hand to Chakwas' shoulder, smiling sympathetically, though the older woman can't see it.

"They'll be happy to see you, when you get back."

Chakwas takes her hand and gives it a squeeze, smiling back.

"It _will_ be good to get back. I had better start padding my resumé while I still have the time."

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Check In**   
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Dear Auntie Raan,
> 
> The mission is going just fine and so am I, before you go and worry your head off about getting an email again so soon.
> 
> I was wondering if you could send me any pictures you have of my mother. I know it's a little out of nowhere, but I would prefer if you didn't ask me why.
> 
> Thank you in advance.
> 
> I love you so much.
> 
> Tali

* * *

It's hard to do the good thing.

For the time being, Tali has decided to table the pursuit of the right thing. As long as Shepard is her temporary captain, Shepard makes the decisions, and Tali will follow them to the end. She had been at Freedom's Progress, seen what happened to Prazza. Rach'Nehl, Pia'Verr, Mira'Bonn.

Her team didn't have the context for Tali's decision -- they hadn't seen how far out of her way Shepard was willing to go to help strangers, how much farther she would go for her friends.

If Tali had been in charge of their mission to Illium, she would have minced precious few words with Eclipse before turning Miranda over. Kidnapping a child is atrocious. A baby? Taking her from her only family, leaving them to mourn and search for her the rest of their lives?

Unforgivable.

She didn't have the context.

Tali isn't Commander Shepard, and that's alright. Tali keeps the engines running, her engineering team efficient, her shotgun clean, and her omni-tool data encrypted. While she's here, she doesn't decide what's right, and that's for the best. There are so many other things she can busy herself with.

She can, however, decide to do something good.

That might be even harder.

She places the mug under the dispenser, like she's seen before, plays with the settings.

"That's not dextro, you know," says Gardner, wiping his hand on his shirt. Casual. "I'm not the boss of you, but it seemed civil to say something."

"That's okay," Tali says, watching the coffee fill the cup. The humming of the machine is strangely soothing. "Thank you for telling me."

* * *

 _"Black,"_ EDI had said, when Tali had asked. More specifically, _"Miss Lawson takes her coffee black."_

 _"That will be all,"_ Tali had replied, skin crawling, desperate to banish it back to where it had come from. Out of sight, but still listening.

It has its uses, but Tali hasn't been won over by this glorified spyware.

* * *

She stands before the door to Miranda's office, holding to the mug like it could burn her alive. Plain white, like Miranda's uniform, like the bowels of this ship, like a mountain of refined platinum when the light hits it just right. The ambient heat is enough to leech through her gloves, making her palms sweat, and the nerves don't exactly help.

Tali unlocks the door.

Miranda looks up with a sharp stare, turning back to her datapad in nearly an instant. Perhaps she'd been expecting Shepard.

"It's you," she says plainly, polite enough. Her eyes don't rise up again. "What can I do for you, Tali?"

Tali makes sure the door shuts behind her before she steps forward. There's a chair on this side of the desk, but it seems placed out of the way to discourage uninvited sitting, so Tali makes the executive decision not to sit just yet. She sets the coffee down in front of Miranda.

The human looks up at her with a datapad still casually held together by her fingertips. Unreadable.

"You didn't have to do that," Miranda says, and it doesn't exactly sound like gratitude. 

"It's what I'm supposed to do," Tali says, and she can't help it -- not holding anything anymore, she has to wring her hands and weave her fingers together. It's lucky she can hide it behind her side of the desk. "It's what I should do. I mean, I wanted to."

"I see," Miranda says, setting her datapad down on the desk. She sits up straight, folding her hands together on the desk as she looks up at Tali. Devastating, withering. "You believe that because you had a front row seat to my personal matter, we're friends now. I'm happy to relieve you of the burden -- this changes nothing between us, and gestures like this are unnecessary."

"This is what you do on the flotilla," Tali replies, moving that chair over now to sit down. It's clear she's not wanted, but the dismissal emboldens her a little. "When someone loses family, the community gathers around to support each other. I can't fill in for your job, and you already have someone who makes meals for you, so... this is about the most I can do."

"That's sweet," Miranda says, with very little indication that she thinks it's sweet. She still hasn't touched her coffee. "But hardly relevant to my situation."

"Niket died."

"He wasn't family," and she sees Miranda's fingers twitch, just a little. "He was a friend, and he sold me out. I'd say he would be demoted for that, if he weren't dead already."

"He was the closest you had," Tali says, gently pushing the mug closer. "Your oldest friend, your only friend. That counts."

"This is ridiculous," Miranda mutters, stacking one datapad on top of another and shuffling them to the side. She closes her hands around the coffee, but doesn't drink.

"My mother died when I was very young." Tali takes a deep breath as she tilts her head back a bit. "My father was... blindsided by it. He couldn't function. He worked, but he didn't sleep or eat. He certainly couldn't care for a child, not that he ever really had before."

She pauses a moment, leaves a space for Miranda to cut her off or banish her, but it doesn't come. 

"My aunt nearly replaced my mother and father overnight," she starts saying, brushing her thumbs over her palms. "She helped me grieve, helped me with homework, made sure I ate... bedtime was monitored, and when I was ready, she helped me connect with other girls and start playing again. She did the most, but always there was someone else from the Rayya, checking to see if we needed antibiotics, or an extra pillow, or an old vid they had lying around... keeping me connected. People tried to help my father, but he wasn't as receptive. He just threw himself into his work."

When Tali opens her eyes, Miranda is staring into her coffee, strands of that dark hair coming away from her like a classical painting.

Tali's throat hurts, a bit, from the talking.

"We may not have had the best first impression on Freedom's Progress, but we're still crewmates, Miranda. I know I'm not Shepard, but... you don't have to be alone, unless you want to be."

There are a multitude of different ways Miranda could respond to this.

_Get out._

_Get off this ship._

_If you so much as speak to me again, I'll rip your helmet off and throw you into Mordin's lab._

"Niket was my bodyguard," Miranda says, and it's not a response Tali could have predicted. She doesn't look at the quarian, more like she's talking to herself than anything else. "Or at least, that's what he was told. When I turned 15 or so, my father hired him to watch me. Only sometimes, at certain places -- there were many, and they rotated shifts. They thought they were there to keep me safe, but really they were protecting my father's investment, there to keep me from acting out. But Niket was different. He could see how my father's demands were affecting me. He was the only one that seemed to question why someone would be so strict with a 15 year old girl."

Miranda lifts the coffee to her lips, closes her eyes as she just breathes it in for a moment. An exhale reflects back from the mug and her hair flutters around her face before she takes a sip of it.

"When I turned 16, I found out that he'd already created my replacement. 16 years old, and he had already decided that I wasn't worth the effort. It wasn't a matter of whether he'd dispose of me, only when. I never lied, but I... may have taken advantage of Niket," Miranda decides, tilting her head slightly to one side. "I cried, I told him all sorts of things that were... true, but that I never would have said without the intent to leave. He got me access to one of my father's shuttles a week later, and I rescued my sister. I flew nonstop to Sanves with Oriana in my lap, since it was one of the few places my father had no business ties..."

Miranda sighs.

"I was 16."

"You were a child."

"I think I was better friends with Niket after I left," she continues, pressing her cheek to the mug. It must feel nice. "We had more freedom to talk. I wouldn't give him any specifics, but I would update him on how I was doing, the things I had learned. I didn't tell him when I started working with Cerberus, but I thought he would have been relieved that I was safe now."

She shakes her head now, pushing the coffee away with a bitter grimace.

"How dare he? He was _angry_ that I was with Cerberus, but my father had always supported Cerberus until they took me in. How is my involvement somehow worse than my father's?"

"Maybe he didn't know?"

"He should have. He _must_ have." Miranda seems angry for a moment, but she breathes out, clearly deflated. "I didn't think that would matter to him. I thought he would understand why I had to save Oriana. I suppose we weren't as close as I thought."

"He _thought_ you were," Tali interjects, fingers laced together and holding tight. "He was probably only upset because he thought he knew you so well. And he must have still _believed_ that, he was trying to fix everything he had done after you talked to him..."

Miranda sighs, again, curling her hands back around the coffee, staring into her dark reflection like it could turn back time, change the past.

"You're probably right. Niket... did his best with the information he had. He was only human."

* * *

> **Subject: RE: Check In**   
>  **From: Shala'Raan vas Tonbay**
> 
> Dear Tali,
> 
> I've attached the images you requested. I took lunch today to look everything over for your request, and I'm missing you more with every day.
> 
> You are so much like your mother. She was so strong in the face of adversity, smart and loving and compassionate. Every day I see more of Hanya in you.
> 
> Please know you can talk to me if you're struggling. I look forward to seeing you again soon.
> 
> With love,
> 
> Shala
> 
> [Attachments: 2.1K Hanya]

* * *

> **Subject: [no subject]**   
>  **From: Miranda Lawson**
> 
> Thank you for the coffee. I trust the details of our meeting will remain confidential.
> 
> Miranda Lawson


	30. Homesick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali further develops her relationships with her crewmates and reflects on how the crew of the Normandy relates to one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm treating my chronic bronchitis, thank you for all of your well wishes and kind words! I reread this fic on the plane home from a family gathering and reevaluated the things I like reading and the things I don't, so hopefully I'll be able to write something more pleasing to read, going forward. Maybe not this chapter, but perhaps the next. I hope you enjoy this installment and have a stress-free holiday season!
> 
> (Also, if you enjoy my little essays in the comment section, I'm a little more active on tumblr than here by sheer virtue of writers block -- I'm problemstarchild on tumblr as well, but expect a small mishmash of fandoms if you dare tread there. Today I spent hours agonizing over the truth of Mordin Solus and his Real Name, so those are the sorts of exciting insights you can expect.)

Making peace with Miranda has surprisingly few consequences in Tali's life aboard the Normandy. 

Amidst her other attempts at reaching out, she's noticed small changes, here and there. On the rare occasion when she sits in the mess hall, Goldstein and Hawthorne include her in their antics. Tali has no interest in breaking their conversational flow, but every now and then Goldstein will look to her for validation on a point she's making, or Hawthorne will ask her opinion on a divisive topic, and she participated little enough in mealtime debates on the Neema that this feels far more like home than it should. Once a week, she meets up with Kelly to discuss the latest episode of _The Lower Wards_ , using Kelly's xenocultural research and Tali's short-lived experience on the Citadel and lifetime of consuming media from Council Space to debate how realistic the fantastical hi-jinks are.

Once or twice she runs into Mordin, who seems to take more of a passing interest in quarian health than their initial meeting implied. 

"Quarian immune system something of a taboo in salarian research circles," he admits at one point, looming over her with giant eyes and an air of curious emotional distance, given the tone of interest and agreeable demeanor. Though they're in the mess, he doesn't seem to be eating anything. "Migrant Fleet an insular community, suspicious of any aid attempts from outside sources. Similarly, Council species suspicious of quarians. Attempts at aid and outreach not prioritized. Little data available on quarian immunofluctuations after Geth War."

"That's what everyone fixates on," Tali agrees, idly hitting her can of water against her thigh to break up the ice inside into slush. "Once they get past checking for their credit chit, or averting their eyes."

"Curiosity about other people only natural," Mordin replies in a matter-of-fact tone, without a hint of defensiveness. "Quarians hardly exceptions to rule, gossip a _staple_ of culture and communication."

"You've got me there," Tali snorts, though she can't remember the last time she really gossiped.

She was invited to meditate with Samara and Thane, on one occasion, but somehow it felt like too much responsibility, keeping quiet for so long around those two. Serious lives, maturity in scores, losses abound. It feels like intruding on a dust ceremony when those two are in the same room.

Kasumi pops up in engineering to ask her questions about the the Migrant Fleet and give little anecdotes about the interesting heists she's done over the years, and of course there's always Shepard, checking in on her, coming to chat with her crew in various stages of battle-ready, injured, and exhausted.

Grunt grants her two minutes and change before passing judgement on her introduction.

"You talk too much," he says simply. Gruff, but hardly irritable.

"That's what Wrex used to say," Tali replies, but he just snorts, does a little head toss that roughly equates to rolling his eyes.

"Yeah. I'll bet he did."

Jack is a little quicker to make her disinterest known.

"Look, tell your troop leader that I'm not interested in selling cookies and holding hands. We don't need to talk."

Even so, it's far and away what Tali had come to expect from the outburst she had witnessed a few weeks ago. Shepard still goes down to talk to Jack and Tali thinks that must be the catalyst for her change. Isn't it always?

She lets herself into the battery to talk to Garrus when she's able, but he's selected for Shepard's ground team about as often as she is, and the opportunities get fewer as she oversees the Normandy's upgrades. Though Tali knows Shepard's policy of putting skills before personal ties, she still allows herself to fluff her ego about what seems to be favoritism from just about every angle. 

_"Expecting Eclipse on this one. You're up, Tali."_

She finds herself troubled that she almost can't remember what her attitude had been like on the SR-1.

Tali has always been willing to fight at Shepard's side, but had she always looked forward to it?

* * *

> **Subject: [no subject]**   
>  **From: Miranda Lawson**
> 
> I am in the process of making some upgrades to combat processes on my omni-tool and need a second perspective. Meet me in my office.
> 
> Miranda Lawson

* * *

It's hardly a friendly message, but it's more than she ever had to go on before. While Shepard takes her team down to Karumto in search of the elusive Cerberus scientists, Tali heeds the summon. 

“Thank you for being punctual,” Miranda leads, holding her arm and omni-tool across the desk for Tali to inspect. “Shepard asked me to look into making my overload tech more effective. I’m sure I can do it myself, but I would feel more like I did my due diligence, getting a second opinion.”

“Where did your hair go?” Tali can’t help but ask, off-topic already; the usual brunette cascades she normally wears are missing below the ears. With something of a blank expression, Miranda raises a hand up, pulling her hair from behind her head in a short rope and draping the end of it over her shoulder. Expression never changing, she gestures to the styling change with the tilt of a wide-open palm.

“It’s called a braid. Can we focus?”

“Of course!” Though flustered, the quarian recovers and takes a seat across the desk to take a look at Miranda’s omni-tool, each executable and recording organized and alphabetized within an inch of its life. Tali’s own omni-tool is a bit of a mess - sure, she keeps combat executables at the forefront just in case, but her main screen is an absolute disaster zone. Half-written messages to her father, product manuals for new forms of VI assistants, clippings from the Synthetic Insights newsletter, documentaries, personal holo library, the lossy soundtrack from _Fleet and Flotilla_ that she ripped directly from the vid when she was 10. Tali would _never_ be able to let someone browse her omni-tool like this, a collage of her lifetime; in comparison, Miranda’s setup looks more like a display piece in a tech boutique, something curated, unused.

Miranda's expression suggests there's nothing of personal value stored on the device, and the idea of that is hard to get down.

“My real options here are to double down on a single target, or rewrite the executable to hit multiple targets in single area.”

“You could do both if you sacrificed—“

“No,” Miranda says, shaking her head. “I've considered, but that’s unacceptable. I need to be ready to act in an instant when Shepard says the word. To keep the recharge time dependable, I can only optimize in one direction.”

“Well… you can use biotics to disrupt barriers and weaken armor, so if I were her, I would probably bring you for that purpose specifically. Overload takes down shields, too, so you can easily shred their defenses to pieces.” Tali nods to herself as she speaks, gaining confidence in the assessment the more she talks. “Shepard is a sniper and she favors disposing of her enemies all at once, so maybe you should focus more on bringing shields down hard on one target than disabling guns and somewhat disrupting shields on a few? They can’t shoot you if they’re dead, after all. If she was really worried about taking out a large group of enemies at once, I think she’d take Zaeed down with her more often.”

Miranda actually laughs at that, short and sweet, blink and you’d miss it.

“I believe Zaeed is still on unofficial probation for his actions on Zorya, but well argued. I was somewhat on the fence about the decision."

Request completed. Tali nods lightly to Miranda as she goes to stand up, but the human grabs lightly at her wrist, letting go the instant she has the quarian's attention.

"While I have you here, do you have any tricks for optimizing the power draw? I gather this is one of your areas of expertise.”

Tali can’t help the grin on her face, tapping her way through Miranda’s combat executables as she sits back down.

“Do I _ever_.”

* * *

"Things might get better for you if you get out of here, you know."

"What, and abandon the mission?" Garrus turns away from his calculations to look at her, and from the look on his face, she can tell that he's deliberately misinterpreting her. To be funny, to be a jerk, who can tell nowadays.

"Out of this room," Tali clarifies. "Breathe a little."

"I breathe plenty," he retorts, turning his face back toward the console, hunched over slightly to keep up with the Normandy's human height build standards. The holo display can be raised, but the kinetic interface only goes so far. "You think I'd breathe better on the bridge, with all of Joker's hot air floating around?"

"I thought turians liked hot air," she snipes back, swinging her leg casually over her own console. "Just like Palaven, right?"

Garrus snorts.

"No sense making myself homesick if I'm going to die on this mission."

"You're not going to die, you bosh'tet. You thought you were going to die on Tuchanka, too. Sovereign fell on you, you took a rocket to the face, and Shepard kept you alive on the krogan homeworld for over three hours. Plus, I lived in your apartment for a few weeks without strangling you for talking in your sleep. Statistically? I think you're in the running for the most unkillable turian in the galaxy."

Garrus actually braces his hands on the console, bends over a little to drop his head, laughing quietly at her little monologue -- she almost forgot what it sounded like. It's deep and familiar, and it hits Tali somewhere between the throat and stomach, settling in there, warm. A light nausea while her heart fails to stay on schedule.

"You know, when you put it like that..."

He trails off like she's supposed to put the rest of his sentence together for herself, but he tilts his head to look at her in the blue and orange light of the gunnery console, and she can hardly focus on words. He seems tired, sure, but it's good to see his brows and mandibles relax a little as he stares at her, the right one flicking a little like he's trying not to smile.

"Thanks, Tali," and even the way he says her name is soft, like the way her family says it back home.

"Any time," she replies automatically, scrabbling to get down to the floor, double checking that she has all of her things. She can't even remember what they were talking about, before. "I have to get back to work."

"Sure," he says, and he resumes his task as if he had never deviated from it. "Talk to you soon."

* * *

"Tali? Are you alright?"

"Hm?"

She hadn't heard Shepard approach, again, but it hardly bothers her this time -- she'd been lost in her thoughts for a while. The suicide mission, thoughts of home. Shepard's gaze cuts through the fog of her mind, concern on her brow, shoulders tense, and Tali recognizes her body language well enough to pay attention.

"You seemed to be... not all there, during the mission briefing. I know I already selected my ground team, but you usually still pay attention until I dismiss you." Shepard touches her hand to Tali's upper arm, tilting her head just the smallest bit, her hair swaying with the motion. Her face betrays nothing, but just that head movement betrays all of her concern. "Anything I should be worried about?"

Tali covers Shepard's hand with hers, taking a deep breath as she looks at her. She's in the med bay every other night, she loses more blood in an hour than a pit varren loses in a month. Those missing humans must be eating her up inside, but still, she's here, looking out for her own. Checking up on everyone, but she never spends time with more than one squadmate at a time. No card games in the mess, no drinking between missions. Just Shepard on a floor of her own -- a big, empty room.

Who looks after Shepard, when the mission's done? Who makes her a meal, who watches a vid with her? Who does she share a beer with when the projections are looking bad?

Who pays attention to her warning signs?

Who comforts her?

Tali gently squeezes Shepard's hand under hers, curling the fingers beneath her palm. A warm color, but pale. Five deadly fingers on each hand, all put to work trying to soothe a distracted quarian.

"Don't worry about me, Shepard. I'm a little homesick, but it won't kill me."

"I won't hold it against you if you want to go home," she says -- quiet, so the other engineers can't hear. "You may lose your life in pursuit of our goals. I can't make you--"

"I promised," Tali protests, prying Shepard's hand away, holding it between both of hers, all six fingers laced together as she leans in. "I stood by you when we thought we were fighting entropy. You and I killed _extinction itself_ in the heart of civilization two years ago. A quarian worked with C-Sec to overcome a security breach -- for a time, traders treated us with some respect. It _matters_ that I am here."

Shepard hasn't moved, but they're close enough that her breath is starting to fog up Tali's visor -- just a blur of red, pink, and orange lies behind the mask.

"It matters that _I_ am here," Tali repeats quietly, lowering her hands a little.

"Our best hope for saving those colonists relies on having you by my side," Shepard replies solemnly. "I just hope you're here for the right reasons for you."

_And why is Shepard here?_

The debt of a lifetime, duty, abandonment by her peers in the Alliance, a cold shoulder from the Council. The crew of the SR-2 is the only viable support structure she has right now, short of giving up on the galaxy and retiring to her apartment on Intai'sei.

Tali wonders, not for the first time, whether this will be the pallet of palladium that blows out the drive core. How long can Shepard go on like this?

A human hand escapes her grip and Shepard lightly holds Tali's helmet in place, wiping the condensation from her visor with the sleeve of her fatigues.

"Let me know if there's anything I can do to help," Shepard says, and Tali just nods, folding her hands together nervously in front of herself.

"Of course, Shepard. I'll let you know if I think of anything."

* * *

> **Subject: Briefing Summary (2175 Aeia)**   
>  **From: Commander Shepard**
> 
> Tali,
> 
> Don't think you get off easy for zoning out just because we've spoken since then. I've attached the mission parameters so you can catch up and keep up with us during the debriefing.
> 
> I know it's not mission critical, but it's important to stay on top of it so you know what's going on. I don't want to leave you behind.
> 
> Shepard

* * *

“What was it like? Living on Arcturus Station.”

She picked up piloting too easily -- the sessions were short-lived, and now they're just excuses to keep Joker company so he doesn't have to spend half of his daily allowance of words swearing at the AI. It's a game of chicken; Tali doesn't need the lessons, but to acknowledge the outmoded premise of their meetings would be to lose the game they're playing, wherein a quarian freely enjoys her free time and a human convinces himself that he's too military to enjoy a nice chat.

“Kind of a weird question coming from a quarian. You know you’ve lived in space your whole life, right?”

Joker angles the chair slightly toward Tali so she can see him glance at her, and it strikes her suddenly, the pains he must take to convey himself, living with Vrolik’s Syndrome. Joker can’t turn easily without moving the whole chair, or gesture too wildly without fear of breaking something.

Tali compensates for her own deficit in expression by gesturing forward with a hand, tilting her head forward to express curiosity. She rarely thinks of the extra steps she takes to be understood by others, but they are laid bare now as she takes them, illuminated by her observation.

Does Joker think about the extra steps he takes to be seen?

“It’s different,” Tali protests, gently circling one hand around with the other as she speaks. “Living on a ship, everyone has an essential job. Everyone is crew aside from the children, we all work to enable our continued survival. A station is… different. It doesn't go anywhere; it's a fixture, an island. The Citadel is the only space station I’ve ever set foot on, but it was completely overwhelming in scope, even after everything I’d heard before my Pilgrimage. Having the space and resources to house nonessential civilians is almost… unimaginable, in some ways.”

Joker snorts at that, fiddling with something on the dashboard.

“The Migrant Fleet has civilians.”

“Not _really_. Not nonessential ones,” she says, turning her head to watch as stars shoot by. It’s easy to forget how far away everything is with mass effect technology, but it takes years for light to travel from Sol, Trebia, Parnitha. "Everyone works. Someone has to make the exosuits, tend the crematorium, run the local political stations. Quarians don't come back from Pilgrimage until they have proof they can contribute to society."

Even so, the Normandy could take her to Rannoch within a few hours, if Shepard commanded it. This galaxy is small, for how massive it is.

“Yeah, well, Arcturus isn’t exactly the Citadel. The population is about five times what they can handle on Jump Zero, but still under 50,000. Big enough you’ll never meet everyone, but small enough you’ll never see a name you don’t recognize in the local news.”

The description hits close to her heart. The news back home almost exclusively involves her father, Shala'Raan, Han'Gerrel... Tali knows each member of the Conclave personally, as well as a few dozen marines and specialists from good families, a handful of scientists in the Special Projects fleet: hell, the reclusive Daro'Xen has said more than ten words to her, far more than most quarians will ever be able to say for themselves. Tali's entire _life_ takes place between the lines of breaking news.

"Maybe it's not _completely_ different. So where do you live now? Where is home for Joker vas Normandy?"

He snorts, like that's the dumbest thing she's ever said.

"Uh, the Normandy? Come on, Tali, at least ask a question you don't know the answer to."

* * *

When Tali lets herself into the main battery again, Garrus doesn’t seem to respond beyond glancing at her. She assumes the regular position — disables the kinetic recognition on the auxiliary console, pushes herself up to sit on it, rests an ice cold can of water on her leg. The familiar dance of coaxing Garrus to socialize has been initiated.

“Not right now,” is all he says, turning his head to look away from her, though she doesn’t see anything else that needs his attention. Tali frowns, but doesn’t make the hurt of dismissal known.

“Are you that busy?”

“No. Just not in the mood.”

Tali stays quiet, just taking the time to observe the way he moves. The glow of the console illuminates his face, and the plates dully reflect the light, betraying the thulium that helps make him up. Garrus doesn’t glance at her again, dark, blue eyes darting from one thing to the next. He looks angry, she thinks — no, the brow plates look that way, but the tension in his good mandible? The way he keeps flicking it irritably? He’s anxious about something.

Perhaps he’s angry, as well. Garrus was always high-strung, but the new Garrus is far quicker to retaliate, fast to deflect. He doesn’t ask many questions, doesn’t care much for answers unless they’re needed immediately.

For the first time since they’ve met back up, it’s evident how much he’s changed. How much of the turian in that familiar blue armor is a stranger?

“Did something happen?”

“I told you Tali, I’m not in the mood. If you want to talk, talk to Kelly.”

He doesn’t look at Tali when she asks, but she’s still unclear on what he’s actually dedicating so much focus to. It’s just calibrating the gun, he’s _always_ doing this. A calibrated gun is critical, sure, but not as meticulously as he keeps it done. Not so intense. 

“If I just wanted to talk, I would do that, but now I’m worried about you.”

Garrus glances to glare at her, so quick she could have missed it if she weren’t watching so closely. The cold bite of the frozen can of water on Tali’s thigh fades to obscurity as a chill overtakes her. She must shift in her posture somewhat because he looks away again and lets out a frustrated sound, remotely opening the door to the battery from his console.

“Tali. Just… go. Not right now.”

* * *

The rejection is unsettling, so Tali immerses herself in an article about breakthroughs in eezo refinement before she gets bored and reads her messages, trying to get back into the mindset of the mission.

According to Shepard's email, the next planet on their grand Cerberus cruise throughout the galaxy is 2175 Aeia, a supposedly forbidden planet in the Alpha Draconis system. _Discovered by and named for one asari scientist,_ the antiquated astronomy article reads, _Aeia remains yet unexplored._

_Too lethal for these guys, but fine for us._

It's unexplored by the asari, at least. In Shepard’s debrief, she imparted that human telemetrists determined Aeia to be similar to the human homeworld sometime in 2165, and the data collected by probes launched in 2167 caused the Alliance to upgrade the planet to a potentially habitable colony world: a priority for their budding colonial interests. In 2173, the Alliance launched the Hugo Gernsback to survey the planet, whereupon its signal was shortly lost. 

A crash, presumably, with Jacob’s father aboard.

Yet somehow, more than a decade later, the signal has been picked up again. A survivor, perhaps? Perhaps an undiscovered, native species learned to use the tech and activate it? There is little rhyme or reason to the beacon resuming function after all these years. A mystery, to be sure, and one that surely must be thoroughly sleuthed out before Jacob can have peace of mind he needs to focus on the mission.

With all of the human intelligence on the planet presumably covered up and hidden, Tali finds herself wondering what Liara would think if she were here. Information broker or not, this sort of discovery would have fascinated her back in 2183 -- potentially being among the first sapient boots on a garden world in recorded history, the possibility of discovering lost Prothean ruins, the potential insights she would have as a historian--

“Exiting FTL in the Omega Nebula,” EDI chimes over the speakers, and that’s not right. “Prepare to drop from faster than light speeds.”

They should only be using the Omega Relay to connect to the Rosetta Nebula. Before she gets a chance to ask around, Shepard’s voice comes on over the comms.

“ _There’s been a change in plans. Garrus, Miranda, get ready and meet me at the shuttle._ ”

"I have a bad feeling about this," Donnelly mutters, and for once, the engineering deck is in agreement.


	31. Inclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Normandy experiences a mild inconvenience, lessened by the quick thinking of one quarian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem referenced in this chapter is 'In Flanders Fields' by John McCrae. Thank you for your patience.

_“Cerberus intercepted a message from a turian patrol that managed to disable a Collector ship somewhere off of Korlus in the Eagle Nebula,”_ Shepard repeats to the crew over the intercom.

The briefing had been short, so many variables remain uncertain. Is the ship permanently disabled? Who, exactly, disabled it? What is a turian patrol doing this far outside of turian space? They would have had to have been deep in the Terminus Systems to have run into the Collectors, and ever since humans started settling the Traverse, the Heirarchy has really dug their spurs in about how far Council protection extends. As though Alliance space doesn't provide a safe buffer between Council space and the pirate scum on the other side.

“ _We have to get in and out of there quickly: find out what we can about what they’ve done with the colonists and how to get to their homeworld._ ”

Tali feels trapped in the elevator as it ascends to the bridge, bouncing her leg impatiently. The last time Shepard faced the Collectors, Tali hadn't even been here -- lost in her own head, mourning the dead on Freedom's Progress, preparing to lead the disastrous mission that was Project Haestrom. The Admiralty Board was swift to press her back into action, and she had seen for the first time the sort of twisted logic that was allowed into the top level of quarian politics. Shepard is so desperate for a lead that she doesn't want to question it when it sails in unannounced.

She should know better by now; defunct things are more dangerous. Still, she feels like she has no control, here -- Tali wasn't here when the SR-1 went down, she wasn't here for Horizon, and she won't be joining Shepard this time, either. She doesn't want to hear about this all in the debriefing.

As soon as the elevator reaches the CIC, Tali makes a straight line down the bridge for Joker. Mission comms aren’t broadcast to the entire ship — the crew would be too tense to do their jobs effectively, knowing the things that go on down there — but Joker stays patched in, so if she wants to be in on everything, the helm is where she needs to be. He barely seems to notice as she takes the copilot’s chair, handling the ship’s new trajectory as they reposition to hit the relay.

“Joker,” she says, by way of greeting him.

“Tali,” he acknowledges, distracted. A finger on the intercom. “Coordinates punched in, let's go find us a Collector ship.”

* * *

Tali spends about an hour or so normalizing her presence on the bridge before Shepard arrives silently behind them, already surveying the lifeless ship the instant they drop out of FTL.

It’s enormous — made from some brown, pockmarked material that looks rough and organic -- somewhat metallic, sure, but Tali doubts that the ship’s armor is made from the standard materials you'd find at a modern shipyard.

“Keelah,” she murmurs, and Joker flicks on the searchlights. Tali has never stood in a graveyard, but she imagines it would feel the way she feels watching the lights track over the strange, rounded exterior of the spacecraft. It's freakishly inert: no residual movement allowing the craft to coast forward while the engine is dead — these are the exact coordinates given by the Illusive Man, the ship hasn’t drifted in the hours it's taken them to arrive at this location. The Collectors are advanced, sure, but with their power out, how have they managed to come to a dead stop in the middle of nowhere?

“Careful, Shepard,” she says, leaning back to look up at the human. “I don’t like the looks of this.”

“We’ll be fine,” Shepard says, tapping her armored fingers on the back of the copilot's chair. “We need a lead, no matter how dangerous it is. Though truth be told, I’d feel better if I knew your eyes were on the engines.”

Defeated before she had a chance. Tali sighs softly and gets to her feet.

“Yes, Shepard.”

“EDI, go ahead and patch Tali in.” Tali looks up at Shepard -- is she alarmed? Embarrassed? She isn't sure, but her ulterior motives for visiting Joker have been seen clear through. “One-way.”

“It is done,” the AI says, piping up for the first time since Tali arrived on the bridge. “Anything else?”

“Just need the ship scan sent to my hardsuit,” Shepard replies. “Prep the shuttle.”

* * *

Tali spends most of Shepard’s missions working from engineering -- statistically, that’s just how it works out. No hard feelings.

Still, she has never felt this tense waiting it out, before. She taps her fingers impatiently on her console, out of range of the kinetic interface as she watches the hardsuit trackers make their way down to EDI's initial scan of the ship. The internal topography is nothing like Tali has ever seen before: curving, organic slopes that swirl around structures that look -- on the scans, at least -- like stalactites. Or stalagmites? Sula'Vael would know the difference. What purpose do they serve? The Collectors have incredibly advanced technology, so why does this ship's design seem so hostile toward crew mobility? Doors seem randomly placed, large holes between floors -- as if someone could even determine when a spiraling ramp of that width and size becomes a whole new floor altogether.

Some of the footage from Horizon caught Collectors gliding down to the battlefield on small wings, perhaps this _is_ efficient for them. Though those wings didn't seem big enough to fly away on: vestigial, perhaps? Do they maximize ease for descent from upper decks to the lower decks at the cost of the return trip being unpleasant? Could anything on that flying cave be confused for a proper deck?

When Tali zooms out from the immediate area around Shepard's ground team, the holographic representation of the ship's innards looks more like some kind of cave than a spaceworthy craft. A big empty space fills the inside of the hull, while it appears all the raw machinery is crammed into the center, surrounded by what almost look like tunnels, honeycombing throughout.

“ _I love what they've done with the place,_ ” Garrus mutters into his mic.

" _Looks like a giant insect hive,_ ” Miranda notes.

“Penetrating scans have detected an access node to uplink with Collector databanks,” EDI offers. It strikes Tali how infrequently she actually has to hear its voice -- really only occasionally, on missions. “Marking location to your hardsuit computer.”

It’s a silent minute or so as the three dots work their way through from the breach in the side of the vessel.Tali maintains energy distribution as the ship’s scanners pulse again with a small power spike, just hoping against hope that the Collector ship doesn’t have enough power to interpret and recognize the signal.

“Shepard, I have compared the ship's EM signature to known Collector profiles. It is the vessel you encountered on Horizon.”

" _Maybe the defense towers softened it for the turians._ ”

“ _The missing colonists might be aboard,_ ” Garrus offers -- strangely hopeful, for him. “ _If they're still alive._ ”

A little more radio silence, watching the party progress through the ship. They regularly pause, likely as Shepard takes cover to scan the turns for signs of Collector activity. It doesn’t sound like they’ve run into any just yet.

“ _These are the same containers that the Collectors used on Horizon. Only these are empty,_ ” comes Miranda’s voice.

“ _Horrible,_ ” says Garrus, disgusted. “ _Trapped in these pods, completely at the mercy of the Collectors._ ”

A few more moments as they make their way down a hallway.

“ _This looks bad,_ ” Garrus starts, and the way he says it makes Tali’s skin crawl.

There’s a reason the crew isn’t privy to the ground team’s comms.

Tali disconnects from the comm channel, harshly wiping her palms over her upper arms as if to warm herself. It hardly works, it just makes her skin itchy where the suit rubs against it.

“Are you okay, ma'am?”

That’s Daniels. Tali just nods toward her, still holding her upper arms.

“I'm fine, Gabriella. Watch your boards.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Shepard wants Tali's eyes on the engines? Fine. She won't even blink until she comes back.

* * *

Barely ten minutes after Tali cut off the ground comms, a menacing red hologram pops up over EDI's terminal. Tali barely gets a good look at it -- it seems to be a Collector, perhaps, but wrong: wide, low to the ground, different legs. Four glowing eyes make a show of appraising the engineering deck before the Normandy gets rocked with a massive power surge. The hologram flicks off at the same time the main lights do, emergency strip lighting glowing red beneath them.

"Tali!" Donnelly turns to her with hands up in the air, as if this is his fault. "What do we--"

This is far from the first time Tali has been on a ship with failing power, and she has no intention of letting it be her last. Still, the adrenaline starts pumping, and before the emergency strips start pulsing she's already bounding down down the catwalk toward the core, gesturing with a hand in the low light.

"Daniels, I need you up here to take readings on the core while we restore power. Donnelly, go to my board and get ready to reactivate the primary drive. Jack," Tali calls down, gripping the railing on the right side, "I'm coming down!"

"You _what?"_

Compared to the majority of Shepard's crew, Tali is hardly an athlete -- she's no assassin, soldier, or hardened prisoner. Still, she's seen enough action to easily jump the guard rail. The dismount isn't exactly graceful, though -- she nearly crashes down onto some sort of stretcher on the subdeck, but Jack catches her with a well-timed -- and incredibly brief -- biotic assist. The human is completely silhouetted by the red light -- Tali can't even read her facial expression to tell how pissed she is in the dark.

The biotic field dissipates near instantly and the quarian lands on her feet, quickly scuttling to the manual override at the base of the drive core. One plunger on the left, one on the right. Tali grips the handle on the left, looking to where Jack's eyes should be in the dark. She's so much taller when they're on level ground.

"Jack, I need you to do this in time with me. Quickly."

"How the shit do you expect me to know--"

"Hand on the handle," Tali interrupts. "I know it's dark, but watch me. Push inward, twist it 90 degrees to the right so the handle is horizontal, and keep your hand on it while it comes out. On one. 3, 2, 1--"

The plungers both click and hiss as they extrude, and Tali sighs with relief as the emergency lighting goes out; no light on the deck but the drive core itself. 

"Okay, good job. Now the opposite. Push it in a little further in than level with the sides and twist left until the handle is vertical, about as slow as when we pulled it out. 3, 2, 1--"

The plungers shift and click into place simultaneously and there's only a brief moment before the main lights flicker back on, nearly blinding in their brightness. Tali doesn't bother to stick around for pleasantries, bounding back toward the stairwell and leaving the convict behind her. The door's locking mechanisms have mercifully reinitialized since the force restart, and as she steps back onto the main deck and back toward her console as Donnelly steps away from his temporary position.

"Donnelly, status report?"

"Console interfaces reinitialized, primary drive reactivated!"

"Daniels, send me your scan data."

"Yes, ma'am!"

EDI shows itself over the holographic terminal again, seeming visually stable.

"The attempted overload was primarily diverted to noncritical systems, but I have regained control of the Normandy."

"Back to your stations," Tali commands, shooing the human engineers back to their posts as she buries herself wrist-deep in engine diagnostics. "What caused that power surge?"

"An attempted data-mine of the Collector ship triggered a trap meant to disable the Normandy's drive core. There was someone else in the system."

"Someone else in the system?"

"There was. They have been dealt with. I am devoting the majority of my processing power to a large download, please focus on stabilizing power draw."

"Already on it," Tali says, uncertainly, tapping into power management. "Good luck."

"Your quick response time has given me the edge in this fight," EDI remarks. "I will not need luck."

* * *

When the cargo bay door starts whining to life, Tali turns instantly on her foot to pound the button to the bridge, scurrying through both doors to press her hands to the reinforced glass overlooking the cargo bay. She has to see, to know they're okay.

The dark, cavernous rupture in the Collector ship seems black and endless behind the opening, but within moments, the shuttle arrives and lands, touching down on the ground before the door has even fully finished closing behind it. Shepard scrambles out the airlock and makes a mad dash for the elevator -- and both Garrus and Miranda exit the shuttle a moment or two after the cargo bay doors clamp shut again. Unlike Shepard, they're not busying themselves trying to make a run for it -- realistically, they've done all they can for this mission. Calibrating the gun won't help them escape, nor will sitting in the XO's quarters and looking over datapads.

Miranda removes her breather and runs both hands through her hair, Garrus sticks his helmet under his arm and tilts his head back, probably to take a deep breath. He rapidly turns his head to look at Tali through his visor and she looks at him for just a second before she backs up off of the glass and takes a moment for herself.

Everyone is alive, that's all she wanted to know.

_Breathe._

She returns to her console, dutifully overseeing the drive core emissions as the SR-2 accelerates to FTL.

* * *

“I want it,” Tali announces as she strides into the main battery. “Send it to me.”

Garrus sighs amicably and rolls his shoulders, head tilted back to exaggerate the sound.

“Why don’t you ever want Shepard’s recordings? She wears a Kuwashii, too.”

“She doesn't wear one under her helmet in hostile environments like you do, Garrus.”

“Ah,” he says, and he’s already tapping around on his omni-tool, forwarding the mission footage to her. “Guess you've got me, there.”

Tali breathes a sigh of relief when her omni-tool confirms receiving the footage, slouching somewhat when she exhales. Shepard hasn't shown her face yet, but whatever they saw on the Collector ship must have been brutal, the way they were talking about it -- not to mention those ominously unfamiliar ship scans. Miranda had compared it to an insect hive, and even having just seen the outside, Tali can agree that the comparison is fair.

It occurs to Tali that Garrus was there on Horizon, too -- the last time they'd come face to face with the Collectors, before she joined. He must be getting almost used to fighting them, by now. She slips her thumbs into open pockets below some of the decorative fabric on her hips, pressing her hands to her upper thighs so she doesn't fidget with her hands so much.

“Are you okay? I heard it was… close. Down there.”

The turian sighs, leaning back against the console, flicking his mandibles out briefly.

“Yeah, well…” His elbows bend pretty dramatically to allow him to curl his fingers around the edge of the console, fingertips drumming methodically against the platinum shell of it while he stares upward. “…I don't know, Tali. We’re lucky we had EDI to get us out of there. I don't think we could have overridden those lockdowns in real time."

Tali sniffs, crossing her arms.

"I helped."

"I could not have responded as quickly as I did without Tali'Zorah's immediate action and leadership on the engineering deck," EDI pipes up from the battery terminal, startling the quarian enough to stumble a little. "She is equally responsible for your safe return and our expedient escape."

Garrus lowers his gaze to Tali, mandibles flaring out somewhat with interest. "You don't say?"

"It _did_ say," Tali snips, unsure whether to be embarrassed by the praise or infuriated by the eavesdropping. "I need to get back to analyzing the readings Daniels took on the Tantalus when that surge hit. Is there anything I should know about this footage before I watch it?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't... eat, while you're watching that." Garrus is no stranger to death, but she notices the way his fingers tense on the console, shoulders stiff as he tightly grips the edge. "The Collectors wasted no time making a bad impression."

* * *

When she arrives back on the engineering deck, Tali nearly bumps into Grunt, standing right in front of the elevator, arms crossed. Thankfully, he's facing away from her, but--

"Grunt? Is everything alright?"

He snorts, turning his head toward her before he goes back to staring down at the cargo bay.

"Fine here. Not so fine down there."

He nods his head forward and Tali tentatively joins his side, hands on the railing. The bay is dimly-lit for the night cycle; she can see the shuttle parked, but everything appears in order--

A dark blur quickly leaves behind one exhaust fan to be obfuscated by another, and then a second from nearby folllows. Two figures dart around in the shadows, unrecognizable.

"What...?"

"Shepard's sparring with the assassin," the krogan grumbles, and she doesn't speak with him often enough to know his mannerisms, but he almost sounds disappointed. "The Illusive Man is smart to cower behind a hologram. The fury in that human puts warlords to shame."

Tali identifies one of the shadows as Shepard -- a flash of red hair. Just her undersuit, it looks like, and the pile of equipment next to the shuttle must be hers. She smoothly vaults up onto one of the fans, only to be followed instantly by Thane, leaping from one fan to the next. He flows immediately from gaining his footing to lunging in to strike her, but she manages to leap to the side and roll to her feet on the closest fan.

It looks incredibly dangerous.

_What if Thane slips into a work memory and forgets that they're sparring?_

"Has she gone to the med bay yet?"

"Give it ten minutes." Tali watches bright blue eyes survey the two figures below as Thane launches another attempt to knock Shepard off balance, forcing her to dodge back again, escaping back between the fans, where she can attempt to hide around the edges. "Shepard's good, but she's running tired. On her feet for almost an hour. Watch when he goes to connect -- he's fast, but she's leaving herself too open, and he's purposefully not taking the opportunities. There, look!"

Shepard dashes from one piece of cover to the other and Thane comes after her from his height advantage, using the edge of the fan's casing to swing into another graceful, diving punch, barely missing as she sidesteps and disappears into the silhouette of a fan. It looks like earnest effort, to Tali. Grunt scoffs, shaking his head.

"He's keeping her on her toes so she can't fight back, but it's just for show. Turians used the same tactics at Shanxi -- deny supplies for long enough with the threat of force and you make a weakened enemy surrender."

It's an astute observation. It dawns on Tali that she really doesn't know all that much about Grunt.

"If he was worried about her health, he would just knock her out and bring her to the doctor himself. That's how krogan do it."

Though perhaps she knows enough.

* * *

" _They're going to target Earth_ ," Garrus rasps into her ear, and the view from the visor fully rotates to scan the length of the ship -- or at least as far as it can be scanned: the curve of it disappears into the distance, like the artificial sky on the Presidium.

Tali has to pause the video and take a deep breath, closing her eyes. The Collectors got away with over 300,000 colonists on Horizon, and they hadn't even manage to get a full half of the colony with Shepard intervening. They've routinely gotten away with more than that; several times, even. There are approximately 17 million quarians living in the Migrant Fleet -- multiply Horizon's population by 30 and the Fleet would be vastly outnumbered. Earth's population _must_ be at least several billion: with the signal jamming technology the Collectors have at their disposal and the ease with which they nearly disabled the Normandy, a Collector ship could incapacitate the entire fleet and steal away with every single quarian in a matter of days. On an unknowable whim.

How long would it take the galaxy to notice that they had gone missing?

What kind of articles would people write? Heinous journalists pondering at their disappearance, providing shock value for the galaxy -- conspiracy theories, no doubt painting her people in suspicious tones.

What of the pilgrims? They would have nowhere left to go. No running liveships to provide food.

Tali counts her blessings. Golo'Mekk's attempt to trade away quarian children to the Collectors was stopped in its tracks, and humanity, instead, seems to have the full attention of the Reapers.

It's a terrible thought, one that twists her stomach into a ball. She was supposed to watch this video for insights on Collector ground units -- how they move, how they attack -- so she can fight them when the time comes to assault the Collector homeworld. She closes it out, instead -- she can't finish it. Not right now. 

"Tali?"

Donnelly has approached her from across the deck, leaning on a guard rail. For once, Daniels is just watching curiously -- no look of annoyance, no short-lived flash of jealousy on the edge of her lip. Tali forces herself to stand up straight -- it's hardly professional to lean on her console.

"What is it?"

"What you did back there--" He glances at the drive core, humming away blissfully. "--I was a mess when we lost control of our systems, but you reacted so fast, the screens barely had a chance to go dark before they were up again."

"What he means to say is that it was impressive, ma'am," Daniels offers, giving up the pretense of working at her terminal. She holds her hands behind her back, ever seeming a bit more by-the-book than her companion. Tali could easily see her on an Alliance ship.

"I was _getting_ to it," Donnelly complains, glaring back at Daniels with no malice in his eyes at all, turning back with that same interest toward Tali. "We just wanted to thank you for picking up the slack. I'm sure we would have managed, but it's a damn relief you were here with us when it hit."

Tali can't help but smile privately, crossing her arms and squeezing them with her hands. She can't help but feel a little better, in spite of herself.

* * *

“ _Cerberus found a dead Reaper_ ,” Shepard finally announces over the ship comms, a solid hour and a half after Tali spotted her sparring in the cargo bay. “ _Ancient, in orbit around Mnemosyne for who knows how long. I don’t think the Illusive Man is dumb enough to risk his life with the dead ship gambit twice in a row, but I’m planning on getting as much unfinished business done as possible before we head out to strip its IFF, just in case something happens and we need to hit the relay right after. If you need any detours before we ship out, let me or Kelly know."_

Tali knows Shepard. The tone of her voice, the anger she's not expressing. Staying professional, probably still bottling it up. When Jacob's lunch break hits, Tali leaves Daniels in charge, hitting the CIC to head to the armory.

Predictably, Shepard is there -- just arrived, by the look of it, ten fingers wrapped so tightly around the barrel of a new sniper rifle that her knuckles have gone pale. She turns her head sharply at the sound of the door closing and seems to sigh -- in relief, Tali hopes -- when she sees who it is. 

"Hey," is about all the human has for her. She moves out of the way when Tali approaches to retrieve the shotgun Xen gave her, laying it out on the weapons bench like she has anything meaningful to do to it. Just disassembling and reassembling it should be enough time to get her talking.

"Hey," Tali echoes, looking to her. The human is paler than usual, hair almost limp, hanging in her face. Her shoulders simultaneously look slumped and tense, like she's trying to completely let go of her body but there's some part of her desperately clinging to control. "You look terrible."

"Ha. Thanks." Shepard's grip on the rifle's body loosens up a bit and she lowers her hand to the grip, instead, breathing out. "Not sure I'm in the mood to give a pep talk or an armory heart-to-heart right now. Sorry if that's what you were hoping for."

Tali's mind touches back on Ashley for the first time in a while, and it's more of a hollow ache than a sting, now. She's had time to grieve -- she's had her nightmares, gazed into that holo for hours, like it would talk back to her, like she'd be back in that memory before everything turned terrible. She had sat on stream for hours to watch the ceremony when Ashley had been posthumously awarded the Silver Dagger and Nova Cluster by the salarian and turian governments. Ash had always waxed cynical about her last stint with the 212 on Eden Prime, that losing her squad would be all she'd be remembered for. Today aliens look to her as a symbol of courage and sacrifice. She would laugh her ass off if she were around to hear about it.

“I think of her whenever I mod my loadout,” Tali admits, pulling the shotgun into her arms. “I still have the Solokov she gave me back at home, under my bed. When the thermal clips run out, I'll have the most reliable firepower in the galaxy.”

“It’s hard,” Shepard mutters, pressing a hand against the wall to slide down to a sitting position more gracefully. “I’m always wondering what she would think of where we are now.”

“What do you think she’d do if she were here?”

Shepard snorts softly at the question, tilting her head back against the wall, eyes closed as her hair protests the friction, sitting up in staticky little shards.

“She wouldn’t be here. It’s Cerberus, and if she taught me anything, it’s that a Williams sticks to her guns. I think she might slap me if she knew what I was up to, these days.”

It feels inappropriate to laugh at that, but Tali can’t really help it, shifting the gun in her arms to set it aside. Ashley had a big mouth, sure, but she was always respectful and deferential to Shepard. Imagining them fighting is... difficult.

“Give her more credit, Shepard. Ash would never attack a superior officer.”

“You would be surprised what a good soldier will do when she’s pushed,” and she sounds distant enough when she says it that Tali looks more fully at Shepard. Her chest rising and falling so slowly, lost in her head.

The silence that follows is deafening. The seconds tick by like hours.

“I know you can’t,” Tali starts, folding her fingers together nervously. “But do you ever think of just going back to your apartment on Intai'sei and leaving all of this behind you?”

“Take up our quarrel with the foe,” Shepard recites, solemnly, “to you from failing hands we throw; the torch be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die, we shall not sleep, though poppies grow in Flanders fields.”

“Flanders fields?”

“I never got much into Tennyson,” Shepard replies, as if that means anything to Tali. When her eyes open, her brows are furrowed again, thoughtful, staring up at the graceful, sloping ceiling of the armory. “I’m alive to make Ashley’s sacrifice worth something. To make the sacrifices of the Arcturus Fleet worth something. I can’t change their fates, but I can vow to be better, _do_ better for them. The only person I can count on to honor their lives and carry that torch is myself.”

Shepard’s fingers curl into a fist against the floor, and Tali feels like she understands. Of course she understands. All of those people on Haestrom — protecting her, avenging each other as they fell to the geth, they gave Tali time to secure the data they were willing to die for.

All she can do now is continue carrying that torch in their name. They died and she survived — she needs to be worth that sacrifice.

Tali startles when Shepard takes her hand, glancing right at her from under furrowed brows.

“The ghosts stay with you,” Shepard says, searching her. Unearthly quiet. “The more you fight them, the more they fight back. You don't have to fight.”


	32. Double Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali takes a walk on the Citadel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Experimenting with new formatting for written correspondence, please let me know if you have an easy or hard time reading the emails or direct messages.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience. I hope you enjoy.

> **Subject: [no subject]**  
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Kaidan,
> 
> I know you're probably not allowed to talk to me because I'm working with Shepard. That's okay. I've been in your position, I understand why you can't, or won't. Whether it's because of politics or your career or suspicion, I get it. More than anyone else, I think -- I get the impression I'm the only one on the Normandy right now who hesitated to join Shepard. It's something I think I might lose sleep over someday.
> 
> I hope you don't lose sleep over it. It's a personal decision.
> 
> I miss you. I think Shepard is missing you too, not that she'll say it. Hunting the Collectors is taking a toll on everyone, I think. So many lives depend on our swift success. It's hard to rest, knowing what's out there. 
> 
> This crew isn't bad, once you get to know them. I was suspicious at first because it's Cerberus, but they're alright, for the most part. Engineer Donnelly called my helmet a bucket once, but half of the things that come out of his mouth are completely inappropriate, so it's not as if I can take the one thing he said about me personally.
> 
> Still, it's not the SR-1. It's not the Normandy that it used to be, because you're not here.
> 
> I always thought it was Shepard that made my experience on the Normandy so great. It's so easy to put her up on a pedestal, you know? We all did. She works so hard and doesn't expect anything back. She was so kind to me when I joined, she never treated me any differently than the rest of the crew. It made a world of difference to me.
> 
> But it wasn't just Shepard. It was Shepard and you, and Ashley, and Adams. It was those talks I had over by the weapons bench, it was the late night discussions we had in the mess. I still think about the stories you used to tell me about your family. You were always there to talk to, and you were so good at listening. I remember appreciating it so much then, but without you here, I've gotten to feeling that maybe I still managed to take it for granted, somehow.
> 
> The people here work hard. They're determined, ready to fight, ready to do whatever it takes. But it's still quiet. We don't congregate in the mess to celebrate surviving another mission. Shepard has a way of getting people to work together, but you had a way of getting them to spend the downtime together, too. The SR-2 crew hasn't exactly figured that out, yet. I'm doing my best to reach out, but it's hard. You always made it seem so easy.
> 
> I don't know what you're doing now, and I don't expect you to tell me. I don't want you to tell me. I just want to talk to someone I trust, even if you can't trust me. I can't talk to my family about something like this, and the rest of the crew... I don't want them to worry.
> 
> I'm struggling, and maybe scared, but I can't let anyone doubt me, or worry about me. I will do whatever it takes to complete this mission. It's just...
> 
> I know you've been working for the Alliance for a long time. I know I was groundside a lot when we worked together, but I mostly just killed geth, and they're not alive. I never intended to be a combatant, but now... I am, and I'm here, and I'm killing real people, not just clones and synthetics. Mercenaries, mostly, but they're people, you know? They have families, they pay bills, you see them in the street buying groceries and you would never even blink. Just... people. Dead people who took the wrong job.
> 
> I had a lot of responsibilities on and off the Flotilla in the two years after my Pilgrimage, but since then... I've lost a lot of people. Friends, coworkers. People whose families I work with.
> 
> How do you cope? Shepard told me not to fight it, and and I thought I understood, but... I don't know how to come to terms with all of the deaths on my shoulders, with so many more looming in the future.
> 
> I'm sorry for sending such a depressing message. Wrex always said I talked too much.
> 
> Respond if you can. It's okay if you can't, or won't. I hope you're doing well.
> 
> Your friend,
> 
> Tali

* * *

When she's finally finished obsessing over the word choice of her email -- and whether or not to even send it --Tali rises from the copilot's chair to make her leave. Not long after the incident with the Collector ship, Joker had turned the SR-2 back toward 2175 Aeia, as if the Illusive Man's betrayal was merely a mild inconvenience, something so trifling that Shepard couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge it. That's not true, though. Seasoned veteran though she was, Shepard was shaken by what she saw on that ship.

Shaken, but never deterred.

The CIC is abuzz with harsh whispers when Tali moves to make her way back to the engineering deck, but even more deafening is the silence from crew members who at least tend to idly chat as they work. Everyone seems unsettled; even Kelly can only seem to muster an echo of a smile and wave as the quarian calls the elevator.

There's a sort of traitorous relief she feels at the state of disquiet, really. Tali spends enough of her off time sitting with Joker to have listened in on plenty of Hadley and Matthews' conversations on the bridge; she has no doubt of their discomfort, the grim set of their jaws is something she expects from the familiarity. Her exposure to those two has made them real people, more than just Cerberus caricatures to be suspicious of.

But no, it's not the way that the bridge has become as deathly quiet as a bleached white spine under an unrelenting sun, it's the anxiety that sets skittering wildly across the rest of the crew that reassures her -- the furrowed brow of a navigator with a shaved head she had never bothered to get to know, the reserved yet frantic way a dark-skinned crewman scrolls down a datapad, barely reading it, as if trying to pierce the hull with her gaze through the projections in her hand. Cerberus -- these loyal, unnamed crewmen Tali hasn't made an effort to endear herself to -- they're shaken by what's happened. They hadn't expected to be endangered, threatened so directly by their ideological leader.

For the first time, they understand that they're disposable.

She wonders again about Kelly's optimistic perspective on those Cerberus experiments back in 2183.Those that tested the ways that thresher maws lived and the ways they could hurt humans could never be excused, and the ones who tortured Admiral Kahoku earned their deaths. But perhaps it's possible to step back from the context of something as unknown as a Thorian creeper enough to see it as pure, scientific work. Xenobotany, something that must be so fascinating for a species so new to the galaxy as humanity. Maybe there really were fresh-faced inquisitive minds among them who were in it for the funding, the pure opportunity to learn, the promise of doing useful work, saving lives out on the frontier.

Whatever the case, it's clear that the recruits on _this_ ship aren't willing or ready to die on the careless whims of their shadowy master. Whatever the SR-2 was intended to be when it was given to Shepard, it's undoubtedly hers now: _her_ ship, _her_ crew, _her_ flock. There is no doubt in Tali's mind where the loyalties of these crewmen lie. She can't help but smile at the irony, finding so much peace and cause to trust in the aftermath of such violent turmoil, in the shadow of such an enormous betrayal.

But then, Tali's aunt had always warned her about careless strangers.

* * *

Down in engineering, her coworkers feel abnormally quiet against the loud thrum of the drive core, and Tali is caught up enough in her own thoughts that she doesn't bother trying to break the uncharacteristic silence. Donnelly only pipes up occasionally to read off numbers, Daniels only speaking up long enough to confirm his readings. Shepard, Miranda, and Jacob have all gone planetside on this mission, and it's only when EDI informs the crew that the shuttle is away that Tali wonders who is in charge, now. Back on the SR-1, Navigator Pressley took charge in Shepard's absence, but Miranda is functionally Shepard's XO here, and then perhaps Jacob has the next highest standing within Cerberus. It's unclear. Perhaps Kelly is in charge? It's a ridiculous thought, the woman doesn't have a commanding bone in her body.

"This is bullshit," Donnelly finally mutters, kicking the fenced in rail hard enough with his military grade boot that it reverberates loudly for a good 10 seconds. "The Illusive Man used our commander as bait for two-legged cockroaches. He's a dighted _bastard_ if he thinks we could pull this off without Shepard."

"Shepard can handle it," Daniels says, but her usual confident certainty just isn't in it. "We can't change what happened, so just... pay attention to your arrays."

"I _know_ ," Donnelly sighs out abruptly, louder than his angry whispers have been. He runs both hands through his hair and Tali can see the skin of his forehead follow, tense with the frustrated force of it. They're keeping their voices down to some degree, trying to keep from disturbing the silence. "Got to keep my head on, keep things running. I just can't stop thinking about it, I'm right pissed..."

Tali takes a deep breath, resting her hip on her console as she turns to face them.

"This isn't the first time Commander Shepard has been betrayed, and it won't be the last. It's going to be okay." The human engineers are staring blankly at her now, and Tali feels somewhat ridiculous for even trying this line of logic -- it's _not_ fine, it's not going to be okay, but it's more important to keep everyone at the top of their game. If Shepard were here, she'd be reassuring them herself, but she has enough on her plate, and Tali's right here. She's their _boss_. "Look, after she proved that Saren was planning to attack the Citadel back in 2183, the Council grounded Shepard with the support of Councilor Udina. They were going to huddle up in the Citadel, defensive strategy. Shepard stole the Normandy and stopped Saren, just the same. This won't stop her, and if the Illusive Man pulls something like this again, we'll all be ready."

"I hadn't heard about that," Daniels mumbles, limply holding her wrist. Donnelly just snorts softly, his tone returning to its usual casual irreverence.

" _Course_ we wouldn't have, Gabby. The suits would have to admit they were wrong about something. Can't have that."

Tali breathes out a sigh of relief as the two of them ease into chatting normally, idly checking her omni-tool for a response to her email to Kaidan. Still nothing yet.

There's something about being part of Shepard's original crew that gives her power -- seniority lends weight to her words, more than she feels she's really earned at her age. Her work on the SR-1 proved to the Conclave that she was ready to work outside of the flotilla a bit earlier than usual right after returning from her Pilgrimage, but it didn't afford her any other special privileges, and most other quarians didn't really recognize her accomplishments on the Citadel as being anything of note, since even the prevention of galactic extinction apparently hadn't directly and obviously been of benefit to the Migrant Fleet. 

People were more impressed by her Pilgrimage gift, if anything, and her geth kill count. She had received a few emails from grateful teenagers who had been planning to eventually take their Pilgrimages to the Citadel - _Thanks for keeping it mostly in one piece,_ they'd say. _Good job with the geth._

Being able to change attitudes so easily with an anecdote feels like something beyond her ability, and not for the first time, it feels overwhelming to be here in a real position; more than just allowed to stay, but encouraged to lead, respected and trusted by her colleagues. Her head feels light, and her omni-tool pings lightly with the arrival of a new message.

"I'm taking a walk," Tali mentions offhandedly, pushing herself away from her console. She doesn't look to check if her human comrades are looking at her. "Daniels, call me if there's trouble."

* * *

> **Subject: RE: [no subject]**  
>  **From: Kaidan Alenko**
> 
> Tali,
> 
> There’s no way to react with grace to losing people. Even if you expected everyone to die, you couldn't have prepared for it. Don’t beat down on yourself over what you can’t change.
> 
> I asked Ash a similar question back after she’d settled in on the Normandy. How do you cope?
> 
> What you all pulled off on Feros, saving all those colonists? Ash took it pretty hard, said it reminded her of how she failed her squad back on Eden Prime. Shepard left behind a thriving, healthy colony, while Ash was the only survivor of Saren's attack. She told me it got easier when she thought of her fellow soldiers behind her in every fight, watching over her from the afterlife, pushing her forward. She already believed in an afterlife, so maybe it was easier to come to terms with the idea that they were at peace, now. 
> 
> Still, afterlife or not, every day she survived, the 212 lived on in her. Your team lives on in you, too.
> 
> Whatever pain they suffered at the end, they're not in pain anymore. Maybe it's cold comfort, but remember them as they were. Every life is more than its last moments.
> 
> Sometimes I wonder if I made the right choice back on Horizon, but when I remember what they did to Admiral Kahoku, the indecision leaves me. I get why you’re out there, but I can’t close my eyes and pretend not to see Cerberus for what they are, and neither should you.
> 
> Don’t let your guard down. They might be friendly now, but when the time comes to cut corners, the non-humans will be the first to go. You deserve better than that.
> 
> I can't reply to any additional messages, not while you're working with Cerberus. I'm sorry, but I know you understand.
> 
> Take care of yourself.
> 
> Kaidan

* * *

Despite the disappointment, Tali _does_ understand, and it's a small comfort to have proof that Kaidan knows her well enough to have said as much. Maybe when she were younger, she wouldn't have accepted that gentle dismissal so readily, but so much has happened since the last time she saw him... it's been a long while for him, too. She can't even begin to imagine what it's been like for him since Shepard died, since Chakwas had to pull him off that smear reporter at Huerta.

"Bad news?" asks Kasumi, and when Tali looks up, she's in the lounge. Kasumi's room, the bar, whatever someone might call it. She just seems to gravitate here at times.

"Reading my mail?" Tali retorts, and as she looks to the human, she feels an immediate pang of regret as a rare frown flickers across the thief's mouth.

"What, a girl can't have intuition? You looked sad."

"Sorry." She lets her arm fall to her side and Kasumi makes room on the couch where she had been sprawled out, which Tali gladly collapses onto. "Bad news."

Kasumi isn't Tali's _first_ choice to tell secrets to, but she _is_ friendly, and they do occasionally get together to watch movies during downtime. Short of Kelly, who still seems pretty shaken by the incident, Kasumi is easily the most approachable person on this ship, Joker included. It just means she can't say too much. They aren't close enough to justify weighing her down with problems, and the whole purpose of talking to Kaidan was to keep from letting anyone know how she's been feeling.

"Did something happen with your family?"

"Something like that," Tali sighs. "Cerberus isn't exactly popular with my family."

"I'd hope not," Kasumi quips, and the levity seems to physically bubble out of her quiet, conspiratorial tone. Tali can't help but smile. "I don't know how I'd react to knowing there was a quarian in the Terra Firma party."

* * *

It's hard to describe exactly how things changed after the Collector ship, but the formerly brisk pace of their missions now feels more certainly urgent. Tali is exiting the elevator when the shore party returns, and she can see the oceans and landmasses of the planet outside rapidly change orientation even as the cargo bay doors shut behind them -- Shepard has Joker piloting the Normandy toward their next assignment before she's even properly set foot outside the shuttle.

Knowing that, it comes as a surprise that their next destination is the Citadel.

Members of Shepard's crew have business all over the galaxy. Tali hasn't talked to them about it, but she hears. Not the details, but everybody has their worries, their doubts. _Field trips_ , Shepard called them. It seems to come so naturally to everybody else; everyone on this ship seems to know _exactly_ what they want, how to get their heads on right to fight the Collectors. Jacob certainly hadn't looked _happy_ when Tali had gone to poke around in the armory, but some of that tension in his shoulders was definitely gone. She's thought at length about it, but nothing comes to her mind as urgent business. Defeating the Collectors will protect the Migrant Fleet and deal a blow to the Reapers -- that's _more_ than enough to make this worth it, to set her mind at ease. She's committed to the mission, not once has she considered leaving.

Even so, she wishes there was something, some stop she could make to set her mind at ease, stop her anxieties from growing and her mind from racing. She's jealous of Garrus in the main battery, at times; the engines need constant maintenance, of course, but they're not as hands-on as the weapons system, especially ever since they installed the Thannix cannon. He always has something to tweak, something to work on. Toiling away in engineering on such a well-constructed ship mostly just comes down to double-checking numbers; very rarely does the SR-2 require manual intervention, and even then, with EDI's help, Joker tends to catch and solve problems before they even manifest in the engine room.

"Jack," Tali calls down from the maintenance bridge to the drive core. "Are you coming out when we reach the Citadel?"

" _Shit_ no," the darkness rasps back up to her. "Too bright, too many eyes. Think I'll stay right here. Maybe get some peace and quiet, for a change."

"Want me to pick up anything for you while I'm gone?"

" _No_. Piss off, cupcake."

About as cheery as she'd expect, but the human hadn't thrown anything at her, this time. Honestly, the friendship is coming along at a breakneck pace; it's a little overwhelming.

Tali's fingers grow twitchier by the day. Maybe a few hours walking around the wards will help.

* * *

> **[Tali]** : So, I know it's not really shore leave, but I was wondering if you would want to come with me to take a walk on the Citadel when we dock?  
>  **[Tali]** : I could use some plants to look at, and you could really use the opportunity to stretch your legs.  
>  **[Garrus]** : I stretch my legs.  
>  **[Tali]** : Crouching with a gun in your arms doesn't count.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Hm.  
>  **[Garrus]** : I can join you briefly, but I have somewhere I need to be.  
>  **[Tali]** : Well, maybe you can just join me after your errand?  
>  **[Garrus]** : Unlikely.  
>  **[Tali]** : Oh.  
>  **[Tali]** : Well, I guess you'll have to make it up to me later.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Make it up to you?  
>  **[Tali]** : Right. You still have to treat me to dinner on the Presidium after I saved your life with my quick thinking on that last mission.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Remind me when I agreed to this? I don't think I agreed to this.  
>  **[Tali]** : I decided for you.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Ha.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Do you plan to hold that over everyone's heads, or just mine?  
>  **[Tali]** : In my perfect world, everyone buys me dinner when I save their lives.  
>  **[Tali]** : You're in the unfortunate position of having bought me dinner for far less.  
>  **[Garrus]** : And here I thought you were just a generally altruistic person.  
>  **[Tali]** : I am!  
>  **[Tali]** : But you have to admit, you set a precedent the last time I was here.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Is that so?  
>  **[Tali]** : You have good taste in food.  
>  **[Tali]** : You know. For a turian.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Hm.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Doesn't sound like me.  
>  **[Tali]** : And your experience in C-Sec might also be useful for determining where I can buy food, knowing that it's actually up to quarian-standard health codes...  
>  **[Garrus]** : The truth comes out.  
>  **[Tali]** : It's a matter of life and death!  
>  **[Garrus]** : Ha.  
>  **[Tali]** : I could die! It's possible!  
>  **[Garrus]** : I'd love to, but I can't afford the Presidium.  
>  **[Tali]** : Men and their excuses.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Guilty as charged.  
>  **[Tali]** : Well, when your legs are cramped and your guts are full of nothing but stale ration bars and loneliness, don't come crying to me.  
>  **[Garrus]** : Noted.  
>  **[Garrus]** : That being said, I can afford to walk.  
>  **[Garrus]** : At least, until Dr. Chakwas sends me the bill for all of the reconstructive surgery.  
>  **[Tali]** : See you on the bridge when we dock?  
>  **[Garrus]** : Sounds good.

* * *

Tali doesn't notice how tense she is until she isn't, anymore. Garrus has been... weird, lately, and he seems a little weird, now. But if something _is_ wrong, that means it's the time to double down and press him harder. He has no problem talking about C-Sec stories, bragging about kills, playing games of one upsmanship with Jacob, Thane, and Shepard, but anything real -- anything dark in his head, anything beyond that armor is a secret, and the armor's gotten thicker since the last time she saw him. He was never chatty, but she tells most of the stories now, and his contributions are usually just hums and nods, the occasional "You don't say?" and "No kidding."

In short, Garrus Vakarian has never been easy to talk to, but at least back then, it was reciprocal. Considering all his old hangups about quarians and krogans and all the other -ans, Tali never thought she'd find herself missing the old Garrus, but this new one feels paranoid and closed off, like he's expecting another rocket to the face at any moment. He was almost better for a while, but then he got bad, fast.

They're okay, of course. They haven't really talked about his outburst that one time, but it's nothing. Nothing she can't look past, when she's been prodding at the mouth of the varren den for so long, hoping his secrets would just come spilling out instead of something unsavory, like frustration.

When she gets to the airlock, Garrus is already there, trading some mild insults with Joker, but he nods to her when she arrives. He didn't even seem to bother with changing into his civilian clothes, which is... expected, but still somewhat disappointing. Tali smiles anyway; he still showed up, he still agreed to come, so he's bound by social convention to at least hang out with her for a good ten minutes before he goes running off to whatever sniper mod swap meet he's booked away his day for.

"Good to see you," Tali remarks as they step through the airlock and into the spaceport. "You look... well-armed."

"Can't be too careful," Garrus replies, turning sharply toward the elevator and stepping on. "I don't really go anywhere I can't take a gun, these days."

"I guess I understand that," Tali says, though she really doesn't. Garrus picks the floor and the doors close behind them, lights flashing rhythmically as they quickly descend several dozen levels. "Any burning questions about my culture? Now's your chance."

He laughs at that, but it's hollow; not as sincere as she'd expect. He seems high-strung. There's something wrong about it, so she just clasps her hands together in front of her and looks at the floor for the rest of the descent, a creeping, chilly feeling coming over her. What if this was a bad idea? What if what's going on with him is serious? What if--

"Tali?" When she looks up, she's faced with an inquisitive browplate and a twitching mandible, though the latter could indicate any number of things. "We're here."

"Right," she says, smiling enough that it reaches her voice. "This is your first time back in a while, isn't it?"

"No, actually," Garrus says, strolling toward the security gate. "We came by here shortly after Shepard picked me up. Had a meeting with Anderson and the Council. She brought me along for it. Unsurprisingly, they treated her like dirt."

He nods at the security guard on duty, a short, turian woman, and she just motions for them to skip the line. The human at the counter gets up in arms about the perceived favoritism, but Tali can really only make out the woman hissing something unclear at him before she and Garrus are out of earshot.

"I'm going to need to inspect your weapons," starts the human C-Sec agent at the end of customs, but Garrus just shakes his head.

"I'm here on Spectre business with Commander Shepard. Radio Bailey, I have clearance."

The look on the human's face is sour as he turns away to mumble into his earpiece, but he stretches out an arm to indicate Garrus can leave.

"I still need to run the quarian through the system."

"Agent Zorah is with me," Garrus replies smoothly, rolling his shoulders back in a way that emphasizes the extra height he has on the officer. He isn't tall, for a human, but he doesn't exactly back down at the subtle threat, either. Maybe he didn't recognize it as one. "Officer... Gorski, was it? We're in a hurry."

There's some feedback from his radio before the man just sighs laboriously.

"S'pose that's fine," the man says, and buzzes them through. "Stay out of trouble, though."

"No promises," Tali supplies cheerily, following Garrus closely through the door.

He's looking better than she's seen him in a while, and she waits less than 30 seconds after they pass the greeter terminal before she bumps her shoulder into him, trying to get his attention.

"You enjoyed that."

The ridges of his nose bunch together when he snorts in response.

"Pure conjecture. They'd never convict."

"And now you've made me complicit."

"Complicit in what? We _do_ have clearance. You can't blame me for having a _little_ fun with it."

"Just be careful dragging me into your scenarios. They won't be as nice to me in lockup while we're waiting for Shepard to come bail us out."

"Right," he sighs, and then he's quiet for a minute. "Sorry."

* * *

They move along for about an hour and a half, stopping in here and there. Garrus seems to grow more fidgety the longer they stay out, constantly checking his omni-tool, and he seems to inch out to the precipice of irate until Tali manages to rope him into little conversations. It's an exhausting cycle, watching him get twitchy and then waiting out the reluctance to talk before he'll finally say something, but it's relieving once she gets something out of him: half a joke, part of an anecdote -- it's like pulling teeth from a vorcha. Even so, watching his face relax a little is worth it. She wonders if he's ever relaxed, before.

Tali maintains a brisk pace through the ward, but it's nothing he can't keep up with, browsing the retail options on offer in Zakera, lingering a little too long near the botanical features inside the ward supports. Her fingers trail along the railing as she looks down at the meticulously cultivated garden, featuring soft grasses and miniature trees. She lets an arm hang over the railing, gloved fingers brushing over the wide, delicate petals of an elegant flower.

Zakera Ward is primarily populated by volus, elcor, and hanar: environmental features like these plants rotate on a schedule based on requests by ambassadors, but between the high-gravity and ammonia-rich Irune, the breakneck gravity of Dekuuna, and the underwater culture of the hanar on Kahje, it seems unlikely that these unremarkable, perfectly healthy looking plants could come from any of the worlds represented in the majority of its population. Judging by the blueish tint to each of them, they have to be from Thessia. Humans and salarians have greener homeworlds, and the leaves seem far too soft to come from Palaven.

How much asari media does one have to consume to consider these plants unremarkable? At one time, this display would have excited her, but now it just feels like a metaphor for something painful. This space is meant for non-Council species to be at home, but how much does it really adapt to their needs? In an act of gentle defiance, Tali presses her thumb down deep into the petal, close to the center of mass, and it falls unceremoniously onto the dew-flecked designer grasses beneath. A smirch of imperfection on the idyllic gardenscape. Avina flashes to life when Tali inches too close to the terminal again and the quarian sighs in irritation, turning around to find Garrus watching her instead of his wrist, head slightly tilted to the left. He doesn't bother to pretend he isn't watching.

"Let's go somewhere else," she says, and he just nods.

* * *

"It's so weird being out in civilization and getting those little reminders that this isn't me," Tali remarks as they walk away from the Elkoss Combine kiosk: two minutes of pointedly ignoring the turian clerk's suspicious glare was more than enough for her. "That none of this is for me. You know?"

"Because you're quarian?" Garrus had been glancing at his wrist, but he looks to her now, shooting a look back at the unwelcoming kiosk as they depart. "I can understand why you wanted me to come with you."

"Well, yes, but I meant because I'm not a civilian. I haven't been a civilian since I met Shepard, and I don't think I could be one again." She gazes up at the sloping ceilings, all of that uniform, shining white. So pristine, so impossible. "It changes everything, you know? I used to look at an omni-tool on the extranet and only think about the price, how cheap I could go, how I could mod it at home to get the best performance for as few credits as possible. I looked at it price-first. Now, I only look at the specs. I don't exactly have credits to burn, but I need to know that the thing on my wrist can save me in a pinch if I'm being overwhelmed by geth, or Eclipse, or -- I don't know, Reapers. I don't know if I can ever go back to feeling like Elkoss Combine is enough to keep me safe. Or anyone, for that matter."

Garrus hums thoughtfully, taking a good moment to look out at the skycar traffic over the industrial terrace. "Theoretically, I know what you mean, but I haven't been a civilian since I was a kid."

"Military service starts at 15, right?"

"Something like that. Even before then, though..." Something about him seems far away, then, eyes unfocused, his gait falls out of step with hers. She reaches for him, touches his back, but he can't feel it through the armor, but she pats the ablative plating gently, trying to bring him back. He jolts back to reality to look at her, then toward a nearby bar. "Sorry. My last job as C-Sec was around here. Scumbag named Kishpaugh, selling poison to kids. Just... took me back a little, being here again."

"Your last job?"

"It's a long story--" he starts, but his omni-tool pings and without even blinking, he's looking for the nearest taxi access. "--tell you about it later. I have to go--"

"Go, go," she says, shooing him toward skycar rental with both hands. "Good luck."

* * *

Her travels with Garrus had been primarily vertical, so it's easy to get back to the customs port just outside where the Normandy is docked. It's not that there's anything particularly remarkable there, but without a chaperone, it's significantly more dangerous to window shop. Captain Bailey was up in that C-Sec office the last she heard, and he knows that she's with Shepard, so she should be safe up there.

_"--you told Admiral Hackett to assist the Destiny Ascension, costing hundreds of human lives and securing the continued dominance of the Citadel council."_

_"The turians lost 20 cruisers,"_ comes Shepard's voice from over the elevator's speakers, more fully catching the quarian's attention. _"Figure each had a crew of around 300. The Ascension? The asari dreadnought we saved? Had a crew of nearly ten thousand."_

 _"But surely the_ human _cost--"_

 _"The Alliance lost 8 cruisers,"_ Shepard interrupts, smooth, unyielding, never raising her voice. _"Shenyang, Emden, Jakarta, Cairo, Seoul, Capetown, Warsaw, Madrid, and yes, I remember them all. Everyone in the Fifth Fleet is a hero, the Alliance owes them all medals, the Council owes them a lot more than that. And so do you."_

Tali recognizes the reporter's voice -- al-Jilani, she'd heard it enough rewinding the video of Joker being tailed at Huerta, back when the news had just hit that Shepard had died. The credit for the bit comes from the Alliance News Network, though, not Westerlund News. The voice following up the story is unfamiliar, but the speaker makes a comment about the other broadcasting network's unsavory methods of targeting heroes before fading out to a pleasant jingle.

"VI," Tali calls out sharply, "Why am I hearing content from the Alliance News Network?"

 _"Your search history indicates an interest in Commander Shepard and Alliance affairs, specifically those regarding the incident in 2183 when former Spectre Saren Arterius attempted to seize control of the Citadel,"_ Avina cheerily informs her. _"This current event, published four minutes ago, was flagged as being of interest to you."_

"Noted," Tali replies, thoroughly scrubbing her omni-tool of all evidence of even a single extranet search.

* * *

_The ghosts stay with you._

"Welcome to Citadel Souvenirs," comes the measured, pleasant voice of the store clerk. "Let me know if you need any assistance."

Tali nods politely and approaches the kiosk, quickly skimming the catalogue, only to find it rather lacking.

"Is there a way to special order specific models, or another location somewhere else on the Citadel that might have more variety?" 

"Sure, let me just pull up the special order form for you..."

Tali quickly fills out the form and submits the request, watching nervously as the asari's dark eyes idly skim the details. There's nothing wrong, nothing suspicious about her request, but there's always a reason to be paranoid while shopping on the Citadel.

"Sure, looks like we have that model in storage nearby. They haven't technically hit the catalogues yet, but there's no block on selling them. This should be delivered by--" The clerk squints and leans in over the terminal, a puzzled look coming over her face as she looks back to Tali. "Am I reading this correctly? The destination of this package is the Normandy? I thought that ship blew up."

"Something like that," Tali mumbles, swiping her omni-tool for digital transfer.

"What a fascinating galaxy we live in," the clerk murmurs, more to herself than to Tali. "Your purchase will arrive within the next two hours. That will be 600 credits."


	33. Sent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali spends some time being normal, and some time being not-normal, with a decidedly not-normal sort of companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for your patience. I hope you're all staying healthy during these troubling times.

> **Subject: [DRAFT] My Condolences  
>  ** **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> My name is Tali'Zorah vas Neema, and I led the unit on Haestrom where Myrr'Jorin died.
> 
> **[PROGRESS SAVED]**

* * *

> **Subject: [DRAFT] My Condolences**  
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> My name is Tali'Zorah vas Neema, and I led the unit on Haestrom where Mya'Valus died.
> 
> Though Mya kept many of the details of her life secretive, I admired her love of learning and the passion with which she tackled new problems.
> 
> She gave her life in the pursuit of knowledge that will one day bring us back to Homeworld, and we all honor her sacrifice.
> 
> **[PROGRESS SAVED]**

* * *

> **Subject: [DRAFT] My Condolences**  
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Dear Netta and Oelloh'Kitt, my name is Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya. I led the unit on Haestrom where Laah died.
> 
> You may not remember me, but I went to school with Laah. I remember how kind he was, and how we always picked him to be a team captain when we played games together.
> 
> We were playing tag once, he must have been 9 around then. I tripped and cracked my visor during a game and Laah picked me up and carried me all the way to the medical wing on the Rayya. He didn't recognize me when we crossed paths again on our mission, but I have never forgotten how quickly he got me to safety, or how he came to check on me every day in the clean room until the fever had passed. He may well have saved my life that day with his quick response, and I have never forgotten it.
> 
> He gave his life to get data that will one day bring us back to Homeworld, and we all honor his sacrifice.
> 
> Your son saved my life, and I will never forget him. Know that I mourn his loss with you.
> 
> **[PROGRESS SAVED]**

* * *

Few quarian games involve equipment, and so cryogenic freeze tag is among one of the favorite midday activities for the Rayya's children. Education takes place during 40 minute blocks so students don't get bored, and after 3 blocks, they get a full hour of free time. Most take the opportunity to stretch their legs in the empty room designated for play. Two people are it at the beginning of the game, and everyone they tag must stop moving in place, as if frozen. After three minutes, a designated timekeeper calls out and the frozen children can also begin tagging people, resulting in more frozen children -- the game only ends when everyone has been tagged, and the original taggers get a score based on how many rounds it takes them to win.

Tali has been playing this game for as long as she's been out of the bubble, and there are four main strategies she's identified. Some kids try to go after fast kids, knowing that they'll tag fewer people in the first round, but that the ones they catch will help them win the game more quickly. Some kids specifically go for anyone slower than them: their round 2 may be slow, but if they can catch a good number, it makes it harder for faster kids to stay out of arm's reach. Opportunistic kids just run for whoever comes too close to them; they're erratic and tend to knock people over if they're not careful. Then, there are the grudge-bearers. Those kids don't care about winning, they just want to have the excuse to body slam someone they don't like.

Yaan'Melau is one of the latter ones, Tali decides, stumbling forward and out of reach of the rowdy boy as he dives forward with both hands. Being about a year younger than most other kids in her grade, she's far from the fastest, but so is he: she's lucky enough that Laah'Kitt's strategy seems to be going for other fast kids in round 1, so she doesn't have to worry about being chased by him as she leans heavily to one side, trying to throw Yaan off of her heels. Other kids peel off from the immediate area to avoid being tagged, but her pursuer doesn't seem to show any interest in leaving her tail. She's taller than he is, but not as athletic, so she barely manages to stay ahead with her slightly longer stride. Her drive not to be caught is only matched by his drive to catch her, probably because Miss Sawni called on Tali to answer a question in history class today after Yaan gave the wrong answer about the political and ethical implications of the geth achieving sentience--

 _"Teacher's pet,"_ he hisses as he connects with her back, and his folded arms press into her shoulders as she hits the ground, arms first as she reacts to the sudden shove. The skin on her forearms burns from sliding against the material of her suit and the sudden, excessive weight of his body on her back is excruciating, but she _smells_ something, and it terrifies her. The light looks strange and terrible through the large cracks in her visor and she squeezes her eyes shut tight, nauseous from the fear.

"Get off, get _off_ \--"

Yaan rolls off of her but she's dizzy, and she struggles against it when she feels herself being lifted up almost instantly in unsteady arms -- small, terrifying, nothing like being picked up by her mother.

"It's okay," Laah'Kitt says, out of breath, already running for help. "It's going to be okay. I got you, Tali'Zorah."

Tali takes a deep, shuddering breath and covers her omni-tool with her palm, shutting the display off as she leans back against the bench. Every one of these is hard to write, impossible to finish. She still hasn't sent a single one, but she keeps trying, hoping that maybe, eventually, she'll crack the code. These are grieving families, widows and widowers, children -- how can she begin to apologize? A life is worth so much more than its last moments, like Kaidan said, but how do you quantify it? How do you honor it? She closes her eyes tight and wills her breathing to regulate.

Normal.

Normal.

Normal.

This is shore leave, sort of -- she wasn't supposed to carry this with her onto the Citadel, in the middle of all of these happy, clueless people--

Tali takes a deep breath when her omni-tool pings to alert her of a message, taking another three to make sure it sticks. She's okay. Everything is okay.

> **[Jack]** : Changed my mind.  
>  **[Jack]** : Chocolate chip cookies.

A distraction, salvation.

At this rate, she'll take anything.

* * *

"Shepard?"

When the redhead turns from the kiosk, she looks tired, but instantly lights up at seeing Tali. Though she knows they disembarked from the Normandy together, Thane is nowhere to be found, though that doesn't mean he's not somewhere close by. The human beckons her over to look at the screen, moving to make space.

"You have perfect timing. I was just about to call you." Shepard shifts her weight from one leg to the other, heavily, like she weighs two tons. There's a scratch on her cheek that wasn't there when she left. Evidently, the action had found her, as it tends to do. "Garrus was going to help me figure out dextro rations, but something came up. Gardner gave me a list for the human crew, but I wanted to add on a few things for the two of you and, ah... this gentleman has been busy."

Shepard whispers the last part as though to avoid notice and Tali finally takes notice of the clerk, leaning bodily over the counter with a posture she can only read as tired, apparently lecturing a customer about the dangers of mixing chiralties. She can't help but shudder at the thought; levo rations would practically kill her before she finished swallowing them. Aliens can really afford to be ignorant about the strangest things.

"Sure, Shepard," she manages, smiling a little as she takes a look at what's already been selected so she has an idea of what the budget is. A few types of meat, vegetables from Earth -- she recognizes apples, like the ones in Kaidan's holos, some spices. She flips to the dextro tab and starts looking through what's on offer there, vegetables, fruits, meats, selecting a few as she goes. Pavalen agniner and caprin for meats, ficura and melagrum as fruits, two varieties of caesos and two types of dextro grain loaf. Only then does she add a few quarian fruits to the mix; mostly a few different types of berries, and a water-rich leafy, sweet lettuce called latuca. The best she can do is make a smoothie out of her options, but Garrus needs _variety_ and _texture_.

"I'm going to have to trust your choices, here. I don't know what any of this stuff tastes like," Shepard remarks, clearly taking interest in the marked items. It's understandable; their preview images look much different than the things on the human side of the menu. The Palaven meats take on a bluer coloration, and the fruits have a slight bronze shine to them -- the quarian foods Tali selected are mostly shades of purple, brown, and red. "I didn't think quarians ate meat, though. Is that just a rumor?"

"Raising livestock isn't calorically efficient; it uses too many resources that are in short supply on the Migrant Fleet. It wasn't worth it for the sake of variety, so we stopped raising animals on the liveships within the first decade of living in space. Most quarians are just vegan out of convenience; we can _technically_ eat meat, but for a lot of people the texture and taste are a lot to adjust to after the two decades of plants and grains before our Pilgrimage, so they just don't. I'm not sure whether our cuisine will change again when we take back Rannoch. Assuming the geth let the animals live." 

Tali coughs lightly, catching herself talking too much about her people's history and culture again, but thankfully, Shepard looks transfixed. She shrugs as she continues.

"Anyway, those are just for Garrus. He's not much of a vegetables guy. He'll eat them if they're part of a cooked meal, but not raw, and I don't think he would trust Gardner to cook food for him, or take the time to cook for himself, so... this is just simple stuff he can prepare for himself without much work. Everything _I_ eat is going through a blender first, though. Speaking of which..."

Tali tabs to a kitchenware tab and selects a cheap blender. Gardner _did_ warn her about the coffee being levo, but she would do well not to trust the Cerberus chef to make food for her in a communal blender. She still gets the shivers thinking about the story Garrus told her way back in the day about the Saracino poisoning attempt on Armistice Day.

"I can see him not being much of a vegetables guy," Shepard remarks, leaning a little against Tali. Her weight is unexpected, barely there, and somehow, a relief. "Still, I'll sleep better when I know the two of you aren't just choking down ration bars every day."

"We knew what we were getting ourselves into, Shepard," Tali says, just a hint of her smile creeping into her voice. "We were with you on the SR-1, and it wasn't exactly fine dining back then, either."

"It wouldn't hurt for you to have something nice every once in a while," Shepard insists, and that seems to be the final word on the subject.

 _"This would be an opportune time to restock the contents of the crew lounge if you so choose, Shepard,"_ comes EDI's voice over comms. _"The supply of dextro-chiralty alcohol is depleted, as are some of the brands that the crew deck uses in mixed drinks. Crew morale is roughly eighteen point five three percent lower with an inadequately stocked bar. I can import the list to the kiosk if you would like."_

"Thanks, EDI. Sounds great." When the checkout list on the kiosk updates, it nearly triples in length, and Shepard snorts with amusement, reviewing the contents. "Alright. Anything else, Tali?

"A pack of chocolate chip cookies, I guess? That's what I came here for."

Shepard wordlessly adds the item and pays, smiling a little when the total comes up on an even 500 credits.

"I'm going to wander a little longer, I think," Shepard mentions, stepping away from the terminal, barely jostling Tali. "Do you want to come with me? It might be a little boring."

"Boring? With _you?_ I'll believe it when I see it."

* * *

Tali only has to suspend her disbelief for a few minutes before Shepard stumbles into a volus shouting at a quarian and immediately involves herself. The brown-suited young woman has been accused of stealing a credit chit and C-Sec has already taken the side of the volus, making a snide comment about _what quarians are like_. It takes a side glance from Shepard and a touch to the shoulder to stop her from escalating the situation when she blows up at the discrimination and threatens the volus. Despite the lack of evidence, the officer seems determined to put the girl away. Tali sidles a little closer to the younger quarian while Shepard interrogates the volus, and the girl looks to her exasperatedly, one hand defensively cradling her elbow.

"It's going to be okay," Tali offers, quietly. "We'll do what we can for you. What's your name?"

"...Lia'Vael nar Nalotir," she says, wringing her hands, and Tali recognizes the name -- but where from? Her suit is still pre-Pilgrimage clean, no obvious signs of omni-gel stains or wear on the fabric or gloves. It's not a good sign for the progress she's made since arriving here.

"What are you whispering about?" The C-Sec officer's attention has shifted from Shepard to the quarians, and the Spectre glances at Tali before diverting her questions to the girl. Tali just bites her tongue for a moment as Shepard wrestles back control of the situation, asking Lia'Vael her story. A careless pedestrian bumps into a quarian and things escalate, they've all heard the cautionary tale before. Shala used to tell her all sorts of little parables about keeping her head down in a crowded market.

"Do you spend a lot of time at the used ship dealer?"

"Yeah," Lia says, quietly this time. She keeps touching her fingers together, and Tali can't help but think of herself in the bowels of the SR-1, struggling to deal with even a single deck of alien strangers on a ship she was invited onto. The Citadel is an entirely different beast -- enormous, someone could easily get lost there. "They've got a lot of nice models. I'd like to buy one and take it back to the fleet, but..."

Her head dips a little like she's looking at the floor and Tali gently touches her arm.

"Your Pilgrimage isn't going so well, is it?"

"No, I--" Lia pauses, glancing at the C-Sec officer, as if burnt by the last time he'd snapped at her for talking to Tali. "...I came here thinking there'd be a lot of work. EVA stuff, salvage -- fixing all the damage the geth attack caused. Everywhere I went to apply signs said 'not hiring quarians,' and the other people would give me mean looks."

"I'll see if I can find out what happened," Shepard assures her, glancing to the officer, who impatiently reminds her that this is a _C-Sec matter_ , not to be interfered with by _civilians_.

The Spectre wastes no time disengaging from the circular investigation and Tali follows her straight to the Sirta Foundation, glancing back at the situation with a little ache in her heart. Lia'Vael, why is that name so familiar? Something in her is disappointed with Shepard, how cordially she talked to those bile-spewing bastards--

"Why didn't you tell him who you were? You're a _Spectre_ , you could have just pulled rank and spared her all of this--"

"This is better in the long run," Shepard states firmly, looking around the entrance to the shop for the chit. "I don't think she took it, and we know she doesn't have it. That means it's probably around here somewhere. If we prove her innocence, Officer Tammert can't do anything to her, and I can mention to Bailey that one of his men is profiling kids to get out of solving crimes. I _can_ use my status to pressure him to take action if I need to, and Zakera Ward becomes a little safer for quarian pilgrims."

Tali looks up from scanning the area with her omni-tool to look at the somber expression on Shepard's face as she lays it out brick by brick, as if she didn't even have to think about it.

"Have you had a lot of experience with law enforcement?"

"A little," Shepard says, smiling when she notices Tali staring. "If I pull rank to get her out of this, she'll just become a target in the long term. He's already decided she's guilty, and he'll double down on that belief if she escapes without proof of innocence. Cops can't _stand_ it when criminals get away from them. I'll show my hand if I need to, but it's safer for her if we play by his rules and win."

Tali relents with a hum, then scoffs.

"What kind of a name is Tammert anyway?"

"No earthly idea. Baltic, maybe? Hold on, let's just ask the clerk about the chit..."

* * *

The Sirta Foundation clerk hasn't seen the chit, so Tali expects to see Shepard head toward the used ship dealership, but instead she heads directly toward Saronis Applications, just across the way. Tali wasn't paying a lot of attention to Shepard's interrogation, but she was fairly certain Saronis was never mentioned.

"Is this going to help?"

"I'm not sure yet. The customer service representative said Kor Tun didn't buy anything, but you don't spend time contemplating Sirta's wares if you're healthy. Volus breathe ammonia, right?"

"Right...?"

"They have the most divergent homeworld in the galaxy. Earth and Palaven are more similar than Irune and any other homeworld. Volus can't just put in an air filter like quarians can, and the environmental pressure is different, too. I figure a stop at Saronis Applications might slip his mind if he visits often enough, and he probably visits often enough."

It's a solid argument, she has to agree. When they enter the store, the salarian clerk gestures broadly with a smile, beginning his customer service song and dance with a flair.

"Welcome to Saronis Applications, can I interest you-- Ah! Shepard!" The smile gets even broader as the salarian blinks in surprise, eyes darting around with interest.

"Do I know you?"

"No, but I know you. Even a senile hanar would remember the human who fought off the geth! I thought you were dead?"

"Yeah," Shepard says, rubbing the back of her neck. "I've been getting that a lot."

Shepard doesn't play up her achievements by any means, but Tali can tell that it does her good to be recognized, and recognized for her actions in a positive way, for once. She leans against the counter on folded arms and chats the salarian up about tech for a bit, making him laugh a few times. Relaxed, enjoying herself, cracking jokes. It's a nice change of pace, good to see. It's amazing how she connects to people; a few words, and he's as good as hooked. He looks at her like one of her own crewman would, bright-eyed and open, hands on the edge of the counter, ready to respond at a moment's notice.

"A volus was in here not too long ago," Shepard segues, casually. "Did he drop a credit chit?"

"Oh! Yes!" He sounds legitimately excited to help. Tali can't help but smile and shake her head. Of course this worked out. "He bought some environmental system drivers, then left without his chit. I didn't notice he'd left until he was already gone. If you see him, tell him I have it here behind the counter."

"Thanks for your time," Shepard replies, warmly, reaching out a hand. "It was good to meet you."

"Marab," the salarian replies, enthusiastically taking the hand. "And the pleasure was all mine."

* * *

"Oh. Well. The quarian _could_ have stolen it," the volus says, unrepentant.

"I'll close this event report, but I'll be watching you," the officer threatens. Lia holds her head low, wringing her hands. "Get a permanent residence, or I'll run you in for--"

"Are you two _serious?_ "

"What?" The volus splutters like an oil leak in a ground vehicle as Shepard crouches down to his level, an inch away from his face.

"You falsely accused this girl of stealing from you, all you have to say now is that she _could_ have stolen it?"

"Now _just a minute--_ "

"And _you,_ " Shepard continues, surging back to her feet to grab the officer by the collar, pulling him down to her level with a surprising strength, brows arced downward, eyes hard. "She gets harassed and insulted by this guy, and _you_ throw in a threat to arrest her for vagrancy!"

"How about if I run _you_ in for obstruction of justice?"

"You think you're going to 'run in' a Spectre?" Shepard steps back to stare him down, shoving him hard enough away from her that he stumbles backward. "I think _both_ of you should get out of here."

There is little else in Tali's life that has felt as satisfying as the spark of recognition in Officer Tammert's eyes when Shepard dismissively waves him off, or the surge of anger in his voice that follows quickly behind when he and the volus decide to beat a hasty retreat. Tali touches Shepard's side once the threats are gone and she can feel the human's body physically soften as she relaxes, taking a deep breath. Not for the first time, she's impressed by the human's composure. If Tali had done this her way, she might be in jail with Lia'Vael for hijacking those brand new environmental drivers. It's beyond lucky that she never had to actually spend much time here on her Pilgrimage, around these people.

"Thank you," the girl starts, much quieter than when she had been fighting for her innocence. "I... I wish I could give you something more than words."

"Can you take care of yourself from here?"

"I guess," the girl says, sheepishly rubbing her arm. "I mean, most nights I eat nutrient paste in a turian shelter, but I'm surviving."

"Good luck, Lia'Vael," Tali says, gently touching her shoulder. "You're going to do fine."

"Yeah," she says, nodding to herself. "Thanks."

* * *

"Was it alright to leave her to it like that?"

Tali tilts her head to look at Shepard, slumping back against the wall with her iced coffee cradled in hand.

"What, Lia'Vael? She'll be okay." Tali sips delicately at her dextro smoothie, considering her words. "The Pilgrimage is about exploring the galaxy outside of our community and finding a way to fit in and work with new people. It's practice for joining a new crew; most quarians struggle with it when they first set out. I was incredibly lucky that you found me."

The mixture is cold and sweet on her tongue, a relief after eating dry ration bars for so long. Normally, she wouldn't trust a vendor on the Citadel to make food for her, but the clerk at the iced beverage kiosk was a kind turian woman who had several blenders allocated for dextro and levo foods -- it's a minimum level of decontamination, but the transparency and the clerk's attitude are enough reason to trust, for now. It's been a long day, and it's not as if Tali doesn't have antihistamines in her pocket in case of an emergency.

" _You_ were lucky? _I_ was lucky to find _you_." Shepard looks up at Tali, shaking her head incredulously. " _All_ of these people are lucky that I found you. The Citadel is still standing because I found you."

"You're not going to make me blush, Shepard," Tali remarks, feeling her cheeks heat up. "Besides, I _mean_ it. I was in a lot of trouble when we ran into each other. I had no way to get off of the station, and C-Sec wanted me behind bars."

"For _what?_ "

"I got caught stowing away on the Resolute, it was a whole thing." Tali waves it off with her free hand, like it's no big deal. "Don't worry about it."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" Shepard sounds concerned enough that the quarian sighs, deliberating how to explain herself.

"I didn't _know_ you," Tali says plainly, shrugging. She's relieved that Shepard looks more blindsided by the information than hurt by its secrecy. "When you found me, I'd just been through... a lot. I didn't just _randomly_ run into a geth that knew what Saren was up to, I asked our pilot to put our ship down on a frozen world where I had detected a geth signal. We were hunted by Saren's mercenaries, we lost our ship on Illium... both of the men who were supposed to safely deliver me to my Pilgrimage were killed. I got run in on the Citadel for stowing away, and a warning to get off of the station... I had just killed a turian before I ended up in Dr. Michel's clinic. C-Sec was looking to run me in for vagrancy, and when you found me, you and I had mutual goals. I figured that was enough."

"I can see why you wouldn't want to lead with all of that," Shepard agrees, resting her cheek in her hand, staring. "Still... I don't know how to feel about all of this."

"I sort of..." Tali shifts uncomfortably, crossing her ankles together hard enough to hurt. "I didn't think it would matter to you. I mean, after all this time."

"No! No, I meant I'm sorry. That you had to deal with all of that alone. It's okay, Tali." Shepard loops an arm around the quarian's side and sits up straight, pulling her close and holding her tight. It's all Tali can do to keep her smoothie in her hands, she's trembling so hard.

When did she start shaking? She sets the cup down on the bench beside her to turn into the human's arms, pressing her visor into Shepard's shoulder.

"You deserved better," Shepard murmurs, squeezing her tightly.

"I know," Tali says, but she still curls her fingers uselessly into the back of the human's fatigues, eyes screwed shut. "I know."

* * *

"Fish-Dog, Food Shack," Shepard sings, swinging the takeout bag in her hand, branded with a cartoon varren licking its lips. "I'm _so_ glad I tried that. I don't know what I expected krogan food to be like, but it was kind of... familiar? In a way? You never realize how much you miss fried food until you're spending all your time eating ration bars."

"I'm glad you enjoyed your free pyjak poppers," Tali chuckles, smiling like an idiot. Anyone would have the same reaction. It's bizarre to watch Shepard be... normal. Or almost normal. One of the krogan at the kiosk challenged them to arm-wrestling for a free 10 credit order if someone beat him, and a _normal_ person wouldn't have accepted that challenge. A normal person would be in the hospital, arguing with their insurance provider that losing an arm-wrestling match to a krogan constitutes as a freak accident and deserves at least partial coverage. A _normal_ person wouldn't have won. "Actually, do pyjak poppers count as krogan food? Pyjaks aren't exactly native to Tuchanka."

"Yeah, well, they're krogan food _now_. Pyjaks picked the wrong planet to disembark on."

"I guess so." Tali glances to the human, and already that scratch on her cheek seems to have faded. How long has it been? An hour? Two hours? It was an angry red when they ran into each other at the Zakera Cafe. "I think I recognized that girl we helped earlier. I don't know _her_ , but her name."

"Lia'Vael?"

"Mhm, Lia'Vael nar Nalotir. It was... I worked with so many teams since I returned from my Pilgrimage. Nalotir, one or two marines from the Nalotir, I think... it's a mining vessel-- oh!" Tali claps her hands together at the impact of recollection. "Sula'Vael! Lia'Vael's mother was my tech expert when I took that mission to Trebin."

"Small galaxy," Shepard says, holding the food behind her back with both hands as they board the elevator. "You mentioned that, before. Why did you go back to Trebin?"

"When we first went there, it was before we knew what was going on. Liara called the husks we saw 'machine cultists', but looking back, I was sure there was Reaper tech in the middle of that dig site, maybe even a Reaper itself. Outside of geth space, even. I was _supposed_ to be proving that Reapers were real to the Admiralty Board, but... the excavation site was stripped bare of all tech." Tali sighs heavily, barely registering it when Shepard takes her hand, lights flashing rhythmically by as they pass floors. "Just a big, empty cave full of human footprints. I thought it might be ExoGeni, since they were the ones monitoring the atmosphere, but I don't think they would have left behind the surveying equipment we found, or the prefabs."

"It seems you became something of a quarian Spectre in my absence," Shepard jokes, and the quarian snorts. What a laughable concept. When Tali tries to do the right thing, Han'Gerrel sticks her in therapy and ground her as a warning. Anderson always believes in Shepard, even now that she's with Cerberus. It's not comparable.

"No, not at all. I just promised them salvage."

"And I promised the Council I'd run in a rogue Spectre," says Shepard, bumping her shoulder against Tali's, disembarking from the elevator right near the Dark Star. "They wanted _nothing_ to do with the rest of it. Besides, it's not about what you're allowed to do, it's about what you manage to do with what you've got. Everyone we fight with got dealt a shitty hand in life, but we're all surviving, trying to do what we can with what little we have."

"You have a very romantic view of Spectres, Shepard," Tali muses. "And of your crew."

"I just believe in you," she says, squeezing Tali's hand once before she lets go. "That's all."

"Aw, Shepard. I believe in you too."

_Of course you believe in her, you big idiot. Why else would you be here?_

"I needed this," Shepard sighs out, shooting Tali a big grin. Her whole face seems like it's glowing. The inside of her helmet feels so hot. "Thanks for sticking around, Tali. I appreciate it."

"Sure!" Overeager. Her throat almost closes up as she stumbles through the rest of her words. "If you ever need to go shopping, I'm your girl!"

_Oh, that sounded so stupid, Tali'Zorah vas Neema. You sound so stupid._

"Yeah?" Shepard's wearing that little smirk she puts on sometimes and Tali's face flushes even hotter as she wrings her hands. "Careful. I might just hold you to that."

* * *

Back on the ship, Tali heads straight for the cargo bay to collect her things: Gardner can handle her rations, for now, but she wants to keep her gift to Shepard secret until the right moment presents itself, and it doesn't seem wise to keep Jack waiting. Several packages are labeled with a Citadel Souvenirs sticker, but it's easy enough to pick out the one addressed to Tali'Zorah vas Neema from the small pile. Shepard paid for the cookies, though, so sifting through the rations packages is something of a mess. It doesn't help that Tali has no frame of reference for the size of the package or the weight of it, so she goes through every one, reading the labels and moving on, taking the opportunity to set the dextro rations apart from the levo rations in two neat piles.

Finally, the cookies are acquired -- a relatively small, light package branded with the Zakera Cafe label -- and it's safe to return to the engineering deck. She nearly bumps into Shepard on the way out of the elevator, stepping past with a grin.

"You just couldn't stay away, could you, Shepard?"

"I missed you, is that a crime?" Shepard's smile is a lot more visible than Tali's, one hand on her hip. "No, just, Grunt was in the middle of a documentary about dinosaurs and wasn't really interested in walking around. I thought it might be nice to bring him something from Fish-Dog, the clerk at Zakera Cafe had nice things to say about it, and I don't think Grunt has much of an idea of what he likes or wants, yet. He's good on the battlefield, but it would be good to make sure he has something else to be excited about when this is all over."

"You're too kind," Tali remarks, but Shepard's still smiling as she looks pointedly at the decidedly levo package in the quarian's arms.

"Maybe _you're_ too kind. Careful if you're making a move on Donnelly, he might take it the wrong way."

" _No,_ " Tali says, firmly, finally, end-of-discussion. Shepard covers her mouth with her wrist when she snorts, but the edges of her smile are still plainly visible on her cheeks.

"Loud and clear. We're heading straight to Omega when EDI and Joker finish preflight checks. Keep things running down here, chief engineer." With that, Shepard steps back into the elevator and is gone.

* * *

"Jack," Tali calls down from the catwalk. "I brought you something."

"About damn time," comes the impatient reply. "Down here, girl scout."

Wordlessly, Tali drops the package, watching as the blue glow blooms out of the darkness to cradle it until the package has slowly descended, out of sight. Once she hears the paper tear, she turns on her heel to return to her station.

"Hey. Wait."

She stops in her tracks, greeted only by silence for one second, two, three.

"Thanks," says the hoarse voice in the dark.

"Don't mention it," Tali replies, and it's like a month of stress is gone from her shoulders, exhaustion setting in. There's nothing she'd like more than to head up to the lounge and lie on the cold ground for a few hours. Maybe on the way to Omega.

* * *

> **Subject: Greetings from the Citadel**  
>  **From: Tali'Zorah vas Neema**
> 
> Dear Sula'Vael,
> 
> It's been such a long time since we've spoken. I hope you've been doing well since we worked together.
> 
> I met Lia today while I was doing some shopping with my Captain on the Citadel! She has a good heart, and I can tell that she's determined to help people on her Pilgrimage, even if it's difficult. I'm a little overwhelmed to know that I made such an impact on someone as strong as your daughter, even more so after crossing paths with her. If you're anything like my aunt, you're probably worried sick about her, but I think you can afford to relax. She has a good head on her shoulders and a strong moral compass, I just know she's going to meet the right people and come back with all sorts of good stories to tell and advice to give to new pilgrims.
> 
> Wishing you good health and safe travels,
> 
> Tali'Zorah vas Neema


	34. Diversion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard has a meeting on Omega, Tali and Garrus discuss starships.

Omega is as charming as never when the Normandy docks: dingy, smoky, and terrible. Tali could practically smell the dark alleys and red lights of the rogue station when the Normandy hit the relay, and she can hardly claim to be disappointed that she wasn't selected for the ground team. _Personal business_ , Shepard had said, handing Mordin a datapad and nodding to Samara as she marched through the airlock in a cocktail dress.

Tali had handled herself on the station before, of course, but her salvage and trade missions for the Conclave had always been negotiated well in advance with dealers who had established something of a rapport with the Migrant Fleet. A small complement of marines assured her safety on and off the transport vessel, and via preparation and a small chain of miracles, she had miraculously managed never to come under fire on the rogue asteroid.

“Omega’s population density makes it a _conurbation_ ,” Joker mentions, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands that he hasn’t really gotten into yet. “Hadley was just telling me.”

“That is not entirely accurate,” EDI interjects, manifesting her holographic interface at the terminal. “Omega is a sovereign station with no formal government, but a conurbation is defined as consisting of multiple cities. Omega is divided into districts, but nothing as organized as a city. They are not the same.”

“Wow. It’s like the Illusive Man spent millions of credits to make the smartest fun-killer in the galaxy.” Joker halfheartedly hits the mute button with the curled side of a fist before leaning back heavily in his chair with a sigh. Tali doesn’t comment on the AI’s silence, but she does manage to feel a little smug about it. “I wouldn’t call it _relieving_ to think about all the loose cannons we have on board here, but it’s good to know I don’t have to worry about the Normandy getting swarmed by mercs or scavengers.”

“I think Jack and Grunt would get a kick out of mercs trying to storm the ship,” Tali offers, with the tiniest hint of a smile in her voice. “Maybe Garrus, too, if he’s up for it.”

“ _Hey,_ don’t jinx us. If your saying that results in a bunch of pirates raiding the Normandy, _you’re_ the one convincing Cerberus to build us a new one.”

“Noted,” she replies, swirling her can of water around just to hear the sound of it, clear and liquid. 

Back on the SR-1, the refrigerator was wasn’t a primary focus of the ship’s design: it cooled unevenly and a few degrees lower than it reported to. Tali would have to hit the can hard against her hip to break up the loose ice before she could get a straw in, and swirling it, the can had a slushy weight and sound to it. Refreshing though it is, the water here feels wrong, sometimes, like she’s somewhere she shouldn’t be. Doubly so sitting in the copilot’s chair. If anyone should be up here with Joker, it’s Kaidan, not her.

“EDI’s spamming me with alerts about an incoming delivery for engineering,” Joker says after a minute or so, tilting his head toward the airlock. “Which makes it a _you_ problem. Give me a heads up if it’s actually mercs, though, alright?”

* * *

Naturally, it's not mercs. A quarian stands outside with a parcel in hand, glancing around skittishly until Tali exits the ship. He seems to do a double take, checking the name on the ship before he looks back at her, then wipes his glove off on the fabric of his hip before extending it for a handshake.

"Kenn'Haemas nar Helash. This is really the Normandy?"

"That's what it says on the side," Tali agrees, taking his hand to shake it. With a closer look, she notices that the suit she had thought was gray was actually white, once. Obviously well cleaned, but scuffed and stained a duller shade by soot and omni-gel. It's a lot of wear and tear for such a young man. "I'm chief engineer Tali'Zorah vas Neema. What do you have for us?"

"A set of T6-FBA couplings," Kenn states, immediately taking his hand back to offer the package with both hands. "Your captain only ordered one set but, uh... I threw in a few extra. You never know when you'll need a spare." He pauses for a moment. "These aren't easy to come by, these days."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," Tali assures him, taking the package into her hands. It's heavier than it looks, and that weight shifts when she takes it, but it's packaged well -- no sound of metal scraping against metal. "How is your Pilgrimage going?"

"Better, now," Kenn replies, nodding at the box. "Safe travels, Tali'Zorah."

* * *

"Pay up, Kenneth."

"Why am _I_ the one paying up? _I'm_ the one who asked for them!"

"Sure, but you thought Shepard would forget!"

"Only because _you_ tried to undermine the difference they would make--"

"God," Jack complains. "Do you two ever shut the hell up? Bad enough you're banging around inside the walls while I'm trying to read."

"We'll be out of here soon, Jack," Tali promises, inching her way between the locally unpowered wiring to install a coupling. "On the bright side, once these are installed, we won't have to perform maintenance as often down here."

"Joy of joys," the convict sighs, and even from inside maintenance access, Tali can hear the human rolling her eyes. "Just don't ask me to fish your corpse out of there if you get stuck."

" _Ground team meeting,_ " Miranda's voice rings out over the intercom. " _Wrap up whatever you're doing. Briefing room, 5 minutes. Mordin exempt._ "

Tali quickly uninstalls the old coupling and inspects the shafts, replacing the keys before exchanging parts with the FBA coupling in her pocket, careful to keep her elbows close to her body in the enclosed space. A few months ago, she would have worried about leaving the job half-done, but Ken and Gabby are fine engineers. They can handle themselves.

"Daniels, Donnelly, I'm finishing up down here, but then the rest is up to you, okay? Double check everything when you're done."

* * *

"It's unclear how long it will take for the Commander to recover, but she intended to investigate a Cerberus facility on Aite that stopped reporting in," Miranda states, tapping around on her omni-tool. Though Mordin was pardoned from the meeting, Samara, as well, is conspicuously absent. "We have no idea what situation we'll find when we get there, but read the information packets I've forwarded to you about the planet so you can be prepared for the climate and gravity, in case you're selected for the ground team. Better to be safe than sorry."

"Pass," Jack mutters, and Miranda glares at her, but doesn't engage, for once. She turns her eyes onto Tali, instead.

"I understand your crew is making adjustments in engineering. I'd like an estimate on how much time we have until we can pursue this lead."

"It should only take about half an hour," Tali promises, gripping one wrist tightly behind her back with the opposite hand. "We were almost finished when you called the meeting, Daniels and Donnelly should be able to finish up inspections shortly."

"Good," Miranda nods. "I'll work out the details with Joker. If any of you have business in the markets, give yourself about 20 minutes to get it done. Dismissed."

* * *

_Fainted_ , Miranda had said, but that doesn't sound anything like the Shepard that Tali knows. Shepard doesn't _faint_. She is not some gasping, trembling flower with the constitution of wet paper. The elevator is crowded when she takes it down to the crew quarters level, and nobody is subtle about turning the corner to glance toward the med bay. Through the window, Mordin is discussing something with Dr. Chakwas, and the silence is nearly deafening as the first wave of crew disperses, returning to the comfortable little nests they've made on the ship.

Hawthorne and Goldstein seem to have relocated for the time being, and only Samara is sitting in the kitchen when Tali turns the corner, cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a field of visual distortion. The quarian hesitates to approach for a moment, but decides to take a seat at one of the tables, far enough away that she isn't egregiously intruding. Samara turns her gaze to Tali, anyway.

"You are wondering why I did not attend the meeting," Samara says, and though it's not entirely accurate, Tali nods. The asari closes her eyes again and turns her head toward the kitchen, back against where Shepard's locker was on the SR-1, just under the med-bay windows. "I wonder, as well. There is nothing to be done from this side of the glass."

"I don't know what happened," Tali offers, bending her legs under the seat of the chair, "but Shepard wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"Though I did not cause her peril, I vowed to prevent it and I failed. Though I am not the perpetrator, I must claim responsibility. To do otherwise would be dishonest." 

"Shepard doesn't really think that way."

"You may visit, if you wish," Samara says, abruptly. "Do not concern yourself over me. I am only waiting to speak with her."

"I didn't want to be rude," Tali admits, hesitantly getting to her feet.

"You have not been."

A few taps to the interface of her omni-tool brings Chatika to life, quickly running Tali's decontamination protocol over her suit. It's not a requirement the way it is on the flotilla, but it still feels like the correct course of action, given the situation. She lets the drone do a second, more thorough sweep of her hands before she approaches the door, which opens easily. Only Chakwas turns away from Shepard to look at her, worry etched into her brow.

"Hello, Tali. What do you need?"

"Just... checking in," Tali finishes lamely, glancing toward the cot. Shepard is laid out uniformly, hands at her sides in that sleeveless dress from Bekenstein, minus all the glitter and makeup. No bandages, no bruises, no bullet holes. Not a single hair out of place. Though her olfactory filter quashes most of it, there's a distinct smell of alcohol on the air. "If that's okay, I mean. Did she drink too much?"

"No alcohol in the system," Mordin answers, though he never looks at Tali, looking instead at his omni-tool. "Residual smell from bar fight. Cause of current condition acute cerebral strain, attempt to do battle with Ardat-Yakshi allure. Against odds, succeeded, but conceded to fatigue on Normandy approach. Samara carried her back."

"I don't understand," Tali says, inching closer to the Commander. "Someone was too... attractive? So she passed out?"

"There was an Ardat-Yakshi," Chakwas explains, slowly and carefully, as if trying to comprehend it for herself. "It's a word for an asari with a genetic defect that causes them to destroy their partner's brain function when they mate. They manipulate and compel their victims into desiring them with... little-understood physiological abilities. Shepard was able to resist, but once the adrenaline wore off..."

"Outcome still impressive," Mordin chimes in, gesturing at a model of Shepard's physiology as it hovers over his omni-tool. "Consequences still upsetting, of course, but fascinating from medical standpoint. Operative Lawson, Project Lazarus staff repaired brain function, muscular degeneration, broken bones; restored circulatory system to perfect antemortem functionality. Voluntary upgrades after revival: dermal implants, bone hardening, muscular reinforcement. Restorative neural implants, yes, but no attempts at alterations to the brain. Even so, resisted finely-honed neurochemical coercion of centuries-old apex predator. Sheer willpower? Biological anomaly? Unclear. Exciting implications!"

"Calling that woman an apex predator is a little fanciful, don't you think, Mordin?" Chakwas manages to sound only gently exasperated. "She killed people."

Mordin sniffs in offense at the criticism, closing his eyes before shrugging slightly.

"Fanciful terminology, perhaps, but hardly embellishment. _Commander Shepard foils serial killer_ \-- trite headline! Unsurprising, well within expectations based on previous accomplishments. Ardat-Yakshi more than serial killer: mythologized, cautious, not fully understood on a neurological level. Abysmal survival rate. Much more impressive feat!"

Tali tunes their theoretical discussion out as she sits on a chair offered by Chakwas, pulling herself close to Shepard's side to hold her hand. She looks so unnaturally peaceful, though more alien than usual in the dress. She finds an odd mixture of anxiety and relief in the outfit, though; it's much easier to see her chest rise and fall with her breath without the padded fatigues she normally wears, but the unusual eveningwear reminds her of visiting ceremonies for the deceased, often one of the only times in a quarian's life when they wear traditional homeworld attire. It's not as if the human makes a habit of wearing this thing.

Shepard's bare hand in hers calls her back to her mother's bedside in 2175 during the plague, though thankfully, the events of those memories were a much more sober affair. Visiting hours never involved doctors in the clean room; it was supposed to be a time for loved ones to have quality time with the sick. Mordin and Chakwas discussing the implications of Shepard's resistance helps her to keep from drawing too many similarities between the scenarios.

The way Shepard's extra fingers don't slot perfectly with Tali's also helps.

It's different. She finds herself staring at the human's hands to distract herself from the creeping anxiety of the situation. Little wrinkles over each forward joint, aside from the innermost joint on the thumbs, then those smooth, rounded keratin plates embedded in the tips, cut down short. Nails, they're called, though they don't look anything like construction nails to Tali. Joker had once told her that humans had developed them to peel stickers off of fruits and reusable kitchenware.

Flipping her hand over, she traces the line of Shepard's palm with a thumb, sighing softly. She can see the way the muscles should bunch up and stretch out when Shepard grips a railing or steadies herself against the shuttle wall. The unfamiliar lines of her fingerprints nest inside of each other, and before long, Tali loses track of time, just brushing her thumb over the Commander's hand.

After who knows how long, Chakwas touches her shoulder, breaking her from her reverie.

"We're leaving Omega soon," she says softly, encouraging. "Go check up on your crew before we go, I'll take care of Shepard."

"Okay," Tali says, and she sounds even more drained than she feels. "Thank you, Dr. Chakwas."

* * *

The coupling replacement went off without a hitch in her absence, and the Normandy is spaceworthy within a minute. Tali watches with disinterest as her station console lights up, drive core humming to life as the ship repositions for FTL. Shepard's unconsciousness casts a shadow over Tali's capacity to engage with the work, and she finds herself pacing between starboard and portside cargo, occasionally glancing out over the darkened cargo bay. 

Her restlessness takes her back up to the crew deck, where she spends a minute staring at Pressley's name on the memorial wall, then up to the armory, where she takes her guns apart and reassembles them. Jacob leaves her to the task, which is a welcome break from the concerned glances Gabby was shooting her way before she left the room. Once her shotgun has been reassembled, Tali leans against the wall and tries to read the info packet about Aite, but it all sort of blurs together, vision unfocused. Something about low gravity.

She finds herself on the crew deck again, where Hawthorne and Goldstein have retaken their usual haunt. Samara remains meditating on the floor, and Gardner is busy adjusting something in the sink with his omni-tool. Following her feet, she makes the long journey down to the main battery, just standing before the door, standing there for a minute, maybe two, before she finally raises a hand to open it.

Garrus is about halfway down the barrel of the gun when she enters and he looks to her the instant she comes into his field of vision.

"Tali," he acknowledges, turning back to his work. "I'm in the middle of some calibrations, not much good for conversation."

"That's fine," she says, shifting her weight to one side, tightly squeezing one wrist in hand, curling her fingers into her palm. "Can I stay, anyway?"

He pauses a second -- whatever he's doing -- to look at her, then nods, returning to the task. Tali moves to her usual spot, the ancillary console, but this time, instead of disabling the kinetic interface and sitting on top of it, she just presses her back to it and lets herself slide down, partially obscured from view by the jutting holographic display board.

The sounds of the main battery are comforting; the barely perceptible sound of cloth on metal and ceramic, the shifting of internal parts, both large and small. Garrus silently makes his modifications, and EDI occasionally informs him of a shift in efficiency, balance, weight distribution. Some of it seems hands-on, but he spends just as much time at the primary console, tapping in microadjustments.

Tali doesn't watch him work, not really. Eyes closed, she rests the side of her head on her knees and just wraps her arms around her shins, taking long, slow breaths. She just listens to him pace around, doing all he can to bring the cannon's effectiveness to perfection. It reminds her of the SR-1, when he would spend all that time realigning the front axle on the Mako after Shepard would haphazardly nosedive from halfway up a mountain and into some geth. Effective, sure, but the vehicle never appreciated it. Garrus never complained, though. Realignment was something to do, and Shepard's unorthodox driving was a welcome deliverance from the drudgery of having to communicate with the rest of the team.

"Come on," comes the turian's voice suddenly, just inches away. "Get up. I'm getting tired just looking at you."

Tali reluctantly opens her eyes to see Garrus crouched in front of her, one hand offered forward in assistance. After a moment of loosening up, she takes the hand and he stands up, pulling her smoothly up with him. She feels a little woozy at the change, but he steadies her shoulder with one hand, sighing quietly.

"Shepard?"

"Mm," Tali offers, which is not much. Garrus runs a hand over his fringe, taking a deep breath -- it's silent, she can only tell from the way his nose scrunches up. "Did you go in to see her?"

"I don't really like hospitals," he shrugs.

"It's just a med bay."

"A med bay is just a small hospital. So no," he clarifies, finally. "I didn't see Shepard. I'll see her when she checks in."

"It's just hard to see her like that," Tali murmurs, leaning back against the edge of the console. Her head feels so heavy. "They say she's fine, but I can't help but still feel this... dread."

Garrus hums an acknowledgement, then steps away to the primary interface for the cannon, tapping a few things in before ushering her over.

"Come here, help me adjust EDI's targeting algorithms to account for modern retrofitting."

"You don't need me for that."

"Maybe not," he drawls, "but it would be fun to argue about what model of drive core a 2173 batarian cruiser would most likely be sporting nowadays. 2184 batarian cruisers are smaller, smaller drive cores, too. Would they just use the latest cruiser-class BSA drive core? Personally, I think they'd go with a 2182 Sur'Kesh standard. Small like the newest ones, but it packs enough punch to maneuver that thing around pretty well. Not to mention it would make a good makeshift explosive if they had to abandon it in a hurry."

Tali hums quietly, padding over to the display and leaning in against Garrus to see the holographic model.

"I'd go with 2181, Illium standard. A little less explosive potential, but similar size and power, and it's cheaper. Plus, there's an electrostatic aftershock that would fry any incriminating data on board."

Garrus nods approvingly at her choice, rubbing a curled knuckle under his chin, deep in thought.

"If we're going for cheap, why not something from Omega?"

"If we're prioritizing the potential to rig it up to detonate, you want consistency -- predictable results." Tali straightens up a little to enlarge the hologram of the cruiser, selecting the engineering deck to get a good look at the layout. The size and shape help confirm her choice, and she nods. "Illium is cozier with batarians than most, they have competitive pricing so they can appeal to the Terminus Systems, and they still manage to have a good reputation, which would be _shattered_ if they let manufacturers put out faulty product. 2181 manufacture is old enough to have reduced pricing, but not old enough that it's too hard to find."

"Pretty sharp deductions," Garrus agrees, and she barely notices an upward twitch of his good mandible. "In that case, modern guns for a 2003 Thessian cruiser?"

* * *

Tali isn't stupid -- she recognizes a distraction tactic when she's subjected to one -- but the mild reluctance that comes with knowing about it wears off after a few short debates. Tali has the advantage of a quarian upbringing, familiarizing herself with hundreds of ship models from within the last few centuries and plenty of theory and application on reconstruction materials and retrofitting challenges. While Garrus isn't familiar with the same range of ships, he has enough insight from living on Omega to know what sort of corners scavengers and mercenaries are willing to cut, what cost is too great to adequately refurbish a certain model depending on the group that owns it. Independent salarian scavengers are willing to haggle for what they know is bad equipment on the basis that they can repair it to suit their needs, for example, but groups like the Blood Pack based around muscle and force and are more likely to spend the extra for insurance that their toys will work. While Tali is focused on the best thing that can be done for a ship, his focus is more on the anticipated needs and priorities of the people driving it, and it makes for engrossing conversation: logical, retrofitting idealism pitted against psychofinancial realism.

When the door opens, Tali has spent nearly two hours in the battery: at the moment, elbows deep in a maintenance hatch, carefully tuning a limiter to allow a little more power draw in a firefight. The original engineers were careful not to throw the power off, but the new gun hasn't been fired yet. Collectors have more direct access to Reaper tech than the turian derivative of the Thannix cannon, and if they mean to hit the Collectors where they live, the Normandy will need every edge it can get.

"Shepard," Garrus says, quietly. Tali nearly sprains her neck turning her head to see her. The human's arms are crossed, leaning against the door frame, just watching them work.

"Don't pause on my account," Shepard says, stepping forward into the room, moving her hands to her pockets. She's back in her fatigues, now, so she's been up for a few minutes, at least. "It's good to know things still get done when I'm sleeping."

Tali takes her time finishing up with the limiter, but isn't as careful with the maintenance hatch, dropping it shut as she approaches Shepard, significantly more bounce in her step than before.

"How's the head, Shepard?"

"Doesn't hurt any worse than headbutting a krogan." Shepard tosses her head playfully, runs her fingers back through her hair. Garrus leans on the railing when he's finished with his task, just waiting for her to get to the point, and after glancing at him, she's quick to oblige. "The two of you are my ground team for Aite. We don't know what's going on down there, but spontaneous radio silence _usually_ means a tech problem. I'm hoping that's all it is. Since the Illusive Man specifically asked me for discretion, though..."

"...it's probably an actual problem," Garrus finishes, sounding bored. "Why are we even bothering with this? We've cleared out dozens of failed Cerberus research sites before, and we still have to hit that dead Reaper. Whatever happens down there is their fault."

"It's fresh intel, so I'm hoping we can actually do something about it, this time." Shepard seems to mull over her words for a second before sighing, shifting her weight. "I don't think most Cerberus scientists know what they're getting into when they take the job. The survivors at those sites, the ones that argue about jail time when you save their lives? They're not the wide-eyed pioneers that get mowed down by their rogue subjects in the first few hours of a containment breach. If we can get in there fast enough, maybe we can save _them,_ for once."

"Sure, sure," Garrus sighs, waving his hands in defeat. "Savior of the foolish, redeemer of the damned, we get it. When do we go?"

"Smartass," Shepard shoots back, turning to leave. "Descent in half an hour."

She steps outside, pauses.

"And read the _damned_ packet, Garrus. I have receipts on."

"Commander," he replies, a sight more sheepish at the chastisement.

A few seconds pass. The door closes.

"Ha ha," Tali drawls, pulling up the info packet she didn't manage to process before. "You got yelled at."

"Shut up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting! Hope you're all staying as healthy as employment allows.
> 
> Also, I have been meaning to replace the fic summary with something a little more recent; I like the one I have now, but it feels misleading, due to the eventually circular nature of the story. If you're interested, let me know if any snippets have stuck out to you that you think would make for a good fic sample. I'm open to suggestions.


	35. Prometheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard takes Tali and Garrus to ground in attempt to salvage the latest in a long line of Cerberus failures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in this chapter for canon-typical ableism, specifically toward autistic people.

Joker drops the Hammerhead in the courtyard of the Cerberus facility on Aite, and before they've even disembarked, the voice comes on over comms.

" _Thank god you came! My name is Gavin Archer. The situation is urgent -- we're facing a catastrophic VI breakout._ " Shepard marches toward the door inside, overloading the station camera as she passes, not even looking at it. " _I'll explain the details later, but you must retract that transmission dish! The controls aren't far from your position, you have to hurry!_ "

When the door opens, it's hardly a surprise, but Tali still feels regret. Shepard had been so sure they had responded in time, but even so, motionless bodies litter the entrance to the station. The quarian carefully picks her way around a man and woman, one at the other's heels: both with arms outstretched toward the door, only halfway up the stairs. Shot in the backs multiple times, their blood pools on the ground around them, a bright alien red.

"It's not dry," Garrus mutters as he takes the scene in, rifle at the ready. "Assuming that VI is still confined planetside, whatever killed these people couldn't have gone far."

 _We were almost quick enough,_ Tali can almost hear in the subvocals. Shepard's jaw is clenched when she nods, still surveying the room. Garrus is keeping an impassive face, but the way his nose keeps twitching makes Tali grateful for her olfactory filter.

" _Over here, on the monitor._ "

A human scientist, probably between 30 and 40, receding hairline. Tali doesn't want to be quick to judge his role in all of this -- _attribution theory,_ Kelly's voice provides helpfully in her mind -- but Shepard said it best before they even arrived here. These types, the Gavin Archer types, aren't the wide-eyed pioneers that get blindsided by the sudden danger of the inevitable containment breach. If this many are dead and he is not, chances are he climbed over their bodies to get to safety.

" _Ah, there you are,_ " he says when Shepard steps into view, arms crossed as she sizes him up. " _I've locked myself in the computer room on the far side of the base. There are geth on the loose._ " Tali looks at Garrus at the same time he looks at her, and he immediately starts fiddling with the overload protocols on his omni-tool. " _A rogue VI has seized control and... I've lost a lot of friends today. I'd hate to see you join them. Please, watch yourself._ " 

Shepard looks to the security camera fixed on her position, nods, then overloads that one, too.

"He keeps saying VI," Tali starts, checking the door -- it's locked, though. She's about to start hacking it when Garrus rams into and shatters a viewpane into a connecting room, and they proceed that way instead. "But if it's geth, that's AI. Unless they had few enough programs to break down a local consensus back into rudimentary VI programs, but at that point, there would be nothing of value left to study -- just a defensive suite, self-repair, maybe agriculture or manufacturing."

"We need to put a stop to this," Shepard agrees, a flat, serious note to her voice. "Garrus, download whatever logs you find. Don't waste time listening to them now, but I want a clear retrospective on this mess once we're done cleaning it up."

"Yes, Commander." His tone is more clipped than usual, and when they hit the control room, he scans around for recordings and data while Shepard retracts the transmission dish. Tali mostly just tries not to look at the bodies on the floor, black, white and red. The facility shakes for a split second and Shepard swears as the dish begins realigning itself.

A split second later, the most horrible din consumes the air, accompanied by sickly green light. A vague, reductionist silhouette of human face has taken over the holographic displays, empty eyes staring forward with a sound like a distorted siren. Shepard shoots out the security camera with a frustrated sigh.

"Okay. Looks like we're going to have to hoof it over there for the on-site controls. Hope you two didn't have plans, today."

* * *

It's easier said than done. Tali and Shepard take turns overloading security cameras to restrict the visual information available to the rogue intelligence, but each hall they turn down is overtaken by sickly green light and a strangled roar. Geth pour out of the cafeteria with rocket launchers and flamethrowers, but with two snipers on the job, their fuel tanks become more of a liability than a weapon. Tali only manages to hack a soldier for a few moments before it breaks out of her control.

Attempting the hack again briefly shorts out her omni-tool, and that roar resounds in her helmet instead. Ducking down with her back to a half-wall, she dizzily repels the intrusion on her Nexus, frantically scrubbing her suit systems of the invasive programs. She barely pulls her shotgun up fast enough to shoot the geth trooper that rounds the corner, seeking her out. Shepard uncloaks from behind it to sever its optics from its processors; omni-blade straight through the neck. The platform flounders for a moment before dropping to the floor, where Shepard kicks it away from them, hard, before incinerating it.

"That's no geth," Tali mutters. Shepard just nods at her, breaking cover to crack off a shot at nothing, then a second one. As its cloak fizzles, a hunter platform clatters to the ground, missing everything from the shoulders up. "Don't try to hack them, Shepard, they're... infected with something."

"Noted."

"Ready up," calls Garrus, "Overload in 3, 2--"

Synchronized, Tali and Shepard rise over cover just as the electrical surge cracks off, stunning the last 3 platforms all grouped together. Tali activates her combat drone in the middle of them to follow up with its own miniature EMP, and once their shields are down, Shepard throws an incineration burst in for good measure. Garrus finishes off the cluster of platforms with clean headshots, and the cafeteria is silent, shattered glass littering the floor with smoldering metal and blackened wiring.

"Garrus, data?"

"Some personal files up here, Shepard, Got them all."

"Let's move on," Shepard says, shooting out another security camera as she leads the way. "This abomination ends today."

* * *

"Was it like this before, or is this... mockery?"

It's rare for Garrus to sound unsettled, but there's a new tension to his brow as he surveys the room: some sort of soothing human music comes out over the speakers while a pair of corpses sit in their chairs: essentially upright, shot to death without ever moving, as if they're still waiting for the tram to arrive. There's an ironic calmness to the way the room is now, roughly as peaceful as it probably was when these poor humans were still alive, taking personality quizzes on their omni-tools to pass the time. Tali wordlessly disconnects the camera in this room, Shepard calls the tram. Garrus hovers his hand over the atmospheric console as if to turn off the music, but ultimately, he curls his fingers back into his palm and wordlessly joins them both at the door.

" _Damn it all, he's aligning the dish to a new upload target! He'll have a clear line of sight to our satellite!_ "

* * *

Tali did a lot of research on habitable planets and stations before she set off on her Pilgrimage. Some of her friends thought she was too young to go and teased her by asking random trivia about the gravity and infrastructure of locations they knew she was looking at. The capital of Bekenstein is Milgrom, founded 2158, exports luxury goods and entertainment. _Named after a human physicist_ , she would excitedly prattle off to anyone who would listen. Lusia? Capital, Monoi. Founded in 505 BCE. Cyone? Polos, 322 BCE. _Fun fact, a year on the human homeworld of Earth is the same as a year on Cyone!_ But then she set her sights on Illium, the home of Synthetic Insights. There's so much to learn, still, about the way a machine thinks, how to make it stop, and who better to learn how than Tali?

Illium. Capital, Nos Astra. Founded in 1617. Illium is hot and gigantic, making settlement on the ground in most areas an impossibility. Instead, the world enjoys a complex network of gigantic skyscrapers that soar through the clouds, escaping the heat of the surface through construction. While walking around the Illium trading floor, never once did it feel like a danger: certainly, flying by skycar made the latitude apparent, but touching down still felt like solid ground. Safe.

This is Aite, though. Founded 2104, capital disputed, well-known for being abandoned by the Council and constantly besieged by both geth and pirates alike.

The security of the Illium trading floor doesn't exist for the maintenance bridge on the transmission dish approach. Tali can't stop noticing the holes in the grates, the dangerously sparse railings, the way the whole structure feels like it's groaning and shifting. The wind whips the hood off of her head and she tries to stick close to Garrus, rapidly developing a brand new fear of heights. Unsurprisingly, the dish is crawling with geth, too, but the quarian barely has the presence of mind to deal with them while she's trying not to fall to a tragic end.

" _Attention,_ " comes an automated, feminine voice, ringing out over the howling gale. " _Satellite broadcast window is opening soon._ "

"We get it already," Garrus mutters on comms, cracking off a shot at a geth that stops it in its tracks.

"The world is ending, move your ass!" Shepard replies, mimicking the virtual, professional inflection of the announcement. She hurls a handful of homing incineration tech at a pair of unshielded platforms crouching on a piece of bridge a few yards way, sending them flailing helplessly and pitching forward. Their unbalanced weight causes that section of bridge to come loose and tip, throwing them down and into the mists below while the metal creaks menacingly. The sight of it has Tali so stressed she can barely move.

"I hate you both," Tali adds, firmly clutching the rail under one arm at all times. She's switched to her pistol so she can still shoot while she crawls along the bridge, but tech is out of the question. "So much."

"Tali doesn't like heights," Shepard informs Garrus, simply.

"She should stop making friends with snipers," Garrus suggests, casually, like they're not one misstep from falling to their deaths. When the targets are cleared, Tali hauls off and hits him in the arm with the side of a tightly-curled fist -- he actually jumps at the contact, eyes wide with surprise when he looks back at her. "Hey, friendly fire!"

"Please act like adults," Shepard mutters, working at the door code to the satellite proper. "Grunt and Jack act more professional than you lot."

Tali bites back a retort as the door flies open and a rocket sails past Garrus, inches away from his head. Shepard's gone before Tali even notices, only popping up a second later when she's decked the rocket trooper to the ground and speared her omni-blade through its head.

"Prime on your 3," Garrus offers blandly, as if he hadn't just nearly lost everything above the shoulders.

Somewhat in a daze, Tali brings up Chatika to bring down the Prime's shields, moving inside to take cover -- not that there's much available. Another rocket sails by and Shepard lets out a frustrated groan on comms, cloaking even as she gets back to her feet.

"Distraction," Garrus calls as a second Prime moves in on his perch. He has room to stay in cover, now, but if it gets much further with that flamethrower--

Not really thinking about it, she pulls Chatika up again to the side of the Prime, then pulls out of cover to shoot it a few times, shoulders aching from the kickback of her shotgun. Its unnaturally green optic seems to zero in on her, raising that flamethrower up again, only for its head to suddenly tilt back, the whole body going stock still. Shepard uncloaks as she launches herself off its back, flicking her omni-blade out of sight as she lands on her feet.

 _Thank you,_ is what she wants to say.

"Have you always been able to do that?" is what she actually says.

"Picked up a few tricks from Kasumi," Shepard shrugs, like it's not worth mentioning, but there's a proud smile just barely stifled at the corner of her mouth. "We're almost done. Let's keep moving."

* * *

_Blow up the support struts, Shepard!_

_There's no other choice, Shepard!_

Whoever Gavin Archer is, Tali has the unusually vindictive hope that what he _will_ be, after today, is dead. The roar of the synthetic abomination fills the entire dish, leeching into their comm channels to blare through her skull as she tries her best to keep up behind Garrus and Shepard, vaulting over the topography of the inner dish.

" _Warning: Structural integrity of dish has been compromised._ "

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that blowing up the support struts for the express purpose of damaging the dish integrity would damage the integrity of the dish, but Tali still feels her legs shake as the structure buckles with every strut Shepard destroys. The quarian puts down the last Prime with a point-blank shotgun blast to the optics that would make Wrex proud, and when Garrus confirms that all targets are down, Shepard takes out the last strut.

Gavin is quick to announce their victory, even as the loss of supports causes the giant structure to start cracking and breaking further up, explosions all along the struts from the exposed fuel lines.

" _You've done it! You've severed the link to the satellite!_ "

The dish tilts and Shepard practically jumps as the antenna breaks off and smashes its way halfway through the walkway, just a few feet from her.

"Move!"

Shepard's already sprinting toward the edge of the tilting dish, Tali close at her heels. Shepard goes into a flying roll, crashing hard against the wall, Tali practically smashes into the grating, ending up face down. She can vaguely hear Garrus gasping for breath behind her and she closes her eyes tightly at the sound of the dish collapsing behind them, near deafening. Her hearing rings as she unsteadily sits up, eyes still shut tight. Her head hurts, and everything smells sharply of ozone.

A hand on her shoulder guides her upright and she blindly grabs at the wrist with her hand, strength wavering even as she does so.

"Don't," Garrus says, and she can smell something sweet on his breath. "Hold still."

She blinks up at Garrus through the cracks in her protective visor, his mandibles flicking autonomously as he takes shallow breaths, even while steadily repairing the tinted plexiglass with his omni-tool's fabricator. Tali holds her breath until he's done, then takes a few deep breaths. The ozone smell clears out after a few exhalations and she does a quick body check to make sure her suit wasn't damaged in the fall which, mercifully, it wasn't. She sighs out in exhausted relief, tipping forward to rest her forehead on the turian's shoulder with a light _thunk_ as her helmet connects with his armor.

"Hey," he murmurs, sounding sheepish. She can feel him looking away from her. "Friendly fire." 

"Over here!" comes Gavin Archer's increasingly familiar and incredibly punchable voice.

"What the hell was that?" Shepard hisses from ahead of them, clearly already up on her feet.

"Man's reach exceeding his grasp," Gavin laments, and oh, Tali won't be at all upset when his creation inevitably ends up killing him, like every other Cerberus scientist.

"If that bosh'tet gets within my reach," Tali mutters, "he's going to _wish_ it exceeded my grasp."

The only one close enough to hear, Garrus snorts, helping her to her feet.

"Behave," he whispers back. "We might need him for a password or something."

Shepard shoots them both a stern look in the middle of some self-victimizing monologue that Gavin is putting on; clearly comms are still on, but Tali can't really bring herself to care. She definitely has a huge bruise on her whole right side from hitting the bridge the way she did. It's surprising none of them are concussed, or dead. Gavin seems to evaluate the state of things beyond Shepard and clears his throat.

"Come on," he says, turning away. "I'll explain everything."

* * *

Of course, when he said _I'll explain everything_ , he explicitly meant he would explain everything to Shepard. The human. Alone, in closed room. The commander's chest fills up the way it does when she clearly wants to sigh with frustration, but she keeps on her professional face, nodding to Tali and Garrus when they arrive back at Gavin's hideaway.

"I'll fill you in. Find something to do and we'll regroup when I have a plan."

Shepard settles into that crossed-arm casual interrogation stance she likes so much and the door closes behind them both. Tali and Garrus look at each other.

"I'm going to round up the bodies," Garrus says, pointing behind him with a thumb. "Help me ID them?"

"Sure. I'll get someone to drop off... boxes," Tali says flatly, making a rectangle shape with her thumbs and forefingers. Garrus snorts, turning away.

"Yeah. Do that."

Garrus disappears into the complex amidst fallen geth and Tali taps around on her omni-tool for Normandy contacts. Miranda? She might spook Gavin if she shows up, as far as Tali can tell, she's only second to the Illusive Man in terms of held power within Cerberus. Grunt? _No_ , she shakes her head with a little disgust in anticipation of how that would turn out. Jacob is probably a safe bet, she decides. Mordin for postmortem analysis, Zaeed for manpower. Jack is out of the question. Samara just lost her daughter...

No, those three are enough. She puts through a call to Joker, pacing back and forth outside the window.

" _Normandy's most eligible and least attainable bachelor speaking._ "

"Joker, I need you to round up Jacob, Mordin, and Zaeed and as many coffins as they can fit onto the shuttle. I'll brief them on the situation myself, but they shouldn't be down here for too long."

" _Copy that, Tali._ "

* * *

> **[Tali]** : Hello, father. I'm with Shepard on a mission to a Cerberus base and we've taken down some geth platforms here.  
>  **[Tali]** : It might be difficult to bring pieces back unless I send them back with an extraction shuttle.  
>  **[Tali]** : My window of opportunity is small, so let me know if you still need materials for your research.  
>  **[Rael]** : Hello, Tali. Where are you that geth are attacking a Cerberus base?  
>  **[Tali]** : They aren't attacking.  
>  **[Tali]** : Cerberus seems to have been working off of geth to create their own AI, but I believe they must have significantly reduced the number of viable programs in a platform to keep them placated.  
>  **[Tali]** : Their AI is using the platforms to defend itself, we think. Any geth platforms that were in those platforms have likely been scrubbed by the new personality.  
>  **[Rael]** : I see.  
>  **[Rael]** : I appreciate the thought, Tali, but given the circumstances with the Idenna, I'll decline your offer.  
>  **[Rael]** : There are few things I can think of more dangerous than a geth platform that may have been tampered with by Cerberus scientists.  
>  **[Tali]** : I can scrub the pieces, first, if you're worried. I'll be thorough, we can triple check for tampering.  
>  **[Rael]** : You are a very talented girl, but it's too dangerous.  
>  **[Tali]** : Yes, father.  
>  **[Rael]** : Keep making me proud out there.  
>  **[Tali]** : I always do.

* * *

"First Zeona, now this place. You ever notice we never go anywhere nice together?" Jacob asks, hopping off the shuttle and extending a fist. Uncertainly, Tali also makes a fist and bumps it against his, which seems to be the right response, since he stops looking at her to survey the area. "Still, glad we have time to help this time. Never feels right leaving the bodies behind when we're late to the scene. It'll be good to give the families some closure."

Garrus has already carried a few bodies outside, laid out in lines. Mordin pushes past the humans on the shuttle with a sniff of disdain, heading right for the corpses.

"I've been IDing the bodies Garrus brings back," Tali starts, hopping into the shuttle to help unload the first coffin. They're standard issue, cryogenic pods to keep corpses from deteriorating during space travel without any of the bells and whistles a living person would need during cryogenic stasis. She dislodges one from the top of the pile and angles it down so Jacob can get a hold of it from outside of the shuttle. "There aren't any survivors in here, aside from the guy Shepard's talking to."

"Let me guess," Zaeed rasps, taking the coffin from Jacob and lifting it over his shoulder. "Ran off and hid like a goddamn coward. Security room, someplace with access to lots of cameras and a huge fuckoff locked door."

"Something like that," Tali agrees, handing off the next coffin.

"Still," Jacob says, lifting it over his shoulder and curling his arm around it. "Doesn't hurt that we have an inside man who knows what's going on here. If he was military, sure, I'd say lay into him. But he's just a scientist, right? I doubt there's much he could have done."

 _So optimistic._ Tali sighs and hands him another coffin. "After we move all of these, I'd like the two of you to help Garrus find bodies in this building. Pretty sure there's no survivors, but it seemed like a skeleton crew, so it shouldn't take too long."

"You're a bossy one," Zaeed remarks. "Reminds me of this spitfire of an elcor kid I worked a few jobs with... 'course, I never saw him again after he crashed his getaway shuttle into that dreadnought... crazy bastard. Damn shame. Slow talker, quick thinker. I remember this one job we did together for a disgraced matriarch with a rack like the the Himalayas..."

The mercenary starts prattling on like he's reading the script of a B-movie and Tali makes the decision to just zone out while she unloads the rest of the coffins. It's for the best

* * *

"Viktor Valentino, technician, age 23," Tali reads off of her datapad. "Survived by his mother, Angela Valentino, and four older brothers who all live on Earth."

"Dead for approximately 1.5 hours," Mordin follows up, carefully examining the wounds. He briefly touches a silver chain around the human's neck, attached to a nondescript pendant. "Was not immediately killed, but incorrectly applied medigel to wounds. Seven singed holes in clothing from gunshots, healed skin, _large_ bruises. Cause of death: internal bleeding. Would have taken hours."

"He was alive when we got here," Tali surmises, feeling sick. Mordin looks over to her with big, dark eyes, searching her.

"Likely. Even so, likely would not have survived transport to Normandy for medical evaluation. Nothing you could have done." Mordin looks pointedly from the body to the datapad in her hands, the death report she's working on for the next of kin. "Nothing you can do _now_ , Tali'Zorah. Your choice: give up, stop trying, decrease rate of exposure to tragedy. Or! _Keep_ trying, hope to be proven wrong. Experimental trials, different outcomes, different factors, outliers. Hard to feel hopeful surrounded by death, but stop testing? _Zero_ chance of encountering outliers. Understand?"

"Understood," Tali says, crouching down to get her arms under Viktor's shoulders. Mordin picks him up by the knees and they carefully transfer him to a coffin, where the salarian places his hands, overlapping, on his chest before closing the lid.

"Next subject?"

Tali's omni-tool has to scan this body a little longer than the last one before a dental implant pings back and brings up the profile on the datapad.

"Marija Vodnik, head of security, age 47. She leaves behind twin daughters, age 14, and a spouse, Jessie Vodnik."

"Dead for approximately 6 hours. Prolonged exposure to fire, numerous gunshot wounds, but all shallow, clipped the body." Mordin scans her with his omni-tool. "Multiple organs failed. Cause of death: respiratory failure. Several deaths due to untreated complications, not brute force. Humans resilient, but geth typically efficient in the combat. Surprised to see complications as cause of death for so many."

"These aren't geth," Tali sighs, inputting the data. "Not really."

"Cerberus AI sadistic," Mordin agrees. "Or sloppy. Either way, bad news. Must be destroyed."

They move the body to the coffin as Jacob arrives with another couple of corpses, laying them out carefully in the courtyard. Tali moves over to the next one in the lineup, scanning with her omni-tool for a match with her datapad.

"Jessie Vodnik," she says quietly. "Sanitation. Age 43. Survived by two daughters, age 14."

* * *

By the time Shepard is done with Gavin, the assist crew has returned to the Normandy and all of the dead have been accounted for and laid, temporarily, to rest within their pods. She leads them to the Hammerhead and gets in, letting them strap in before she says anything. A deep breath, Tali can imagine her eyes are closed in the driver's seat.

"Are you two still in it for this mission? It's about to get a lot more complicated."

"We've got your back, Shepard," Garrus replies, strapping in.

"The... VI," she says, turning her head back toward them, brows furrowed. "It's human."

Nobody says anything for a moment, then Garrus clears his throat.

"Well... yeah. It's Cerberus, right? Didn't exactly think it was volus."

"No," Shepard says, more slowly this time. "It's not a human program. It's a human being."

* * *

An unusual quiet overtakes the team as they try to find a quick path to Vulcan Station, Shepard expertly navigating the Hammerhead over the chasms and dangerous terrain in this area. Garrus is ready at the gunnery station, Tali running targeting algorithms and scouting for hostiles, but for the moment, the sensors are quiet. Too much volcanic activity in this area for permanent security fixtures. The Hammerhead delicately traverses a river of lava along broken-up sheets of igneous rock, floating chaotically along the surface. Accelerate, hover, slow up. Quickly reposition and aim for the next bit of rock before this one sinks under the vehicle. It's reassuring to know that Shepard is capable of handling the Hammerhead so skillfully, but some immature part of Tali is disappointed that the Mako was just a fluke. When everyone thought Shepard was a bad driver, it evened the playing field a bit. At least Cerberus didn't imbue her with the ability to dance.

When Tali tires of watching the view through the windshield, she turns to look to Garrus, instead. The look on his face as he fixates on the distance is hard to read. Awe, maybe, appreciation of how close they are to sinking into the lava. Of course, he's always a little hard to read if he's not talking; he could just be thinking about something.

The ridges on his nose bunch up when he tilts his head slightly to the side, and it strikes Tali that his eyes are actually on Shepard, the way the warm light illuminates her silhouette with a glimmering red halo. In light of the realization, something about him softens -- his gaze, his posture.

"Made it," Shepard informs them when the Hammerhead hits solid ground, and Garrus is all turian discipline the moment Tali blinks: back straight, shoulders set, mandibles held tight to his face. "You two are _so_ quiet. Garrus, can you play back some of those project logs on Overlord? It's as good a time as any to dig in."

"Of course, Shepard," he says mildly, fiddling with his omni-tool. Maybe she had been imagining it? 

* * *

The experience of clearing out Vulcan Station is more or less exactly how Tali always imagined it would be to fight her way through a small army of synthetics in a collapsing thermal plant. She has half a mind to record video of the commander in action and send it to the founder of the N7 program to boost recruitment. She can practically see the gears turning in Shepard's head the moment they breach the station: she adapts instantly to the new surroundings and destroys sections of geothermal piping to use as a displacement weapon against ill-positioned drones and mechs, making quick work of the entry floor. Tali is practically boiling in her suit, but she doesn't complain, following along closely with the squad. 

Garrus downloads a data cache on the second floor and the entire room flares lime green with a station-shaking roar, holographic cubes pulsing angrily as if they could boil over from the display and manifest physically. Knowing that all of that is an actual person makes Tali's skin crawl, and she beats a hasty retreat, staying close to Shepard.

The turian slips on the thermal pipe they're using to get to the next floor, but Shepard catches him by the waist, not wasting a second thinking about it.

"Careful," she says, and pulls him back to the center of the makeshift walkway like he weighs nothing. It takes a few seconds for his mandibles to flick back to neutral.

* * *

The station shudders under her feet and Tali pauses at the next door, lowering her shotgun. Another shudder. It doesn't feel like seismic activity, despite the location, and it's not throwing the building into danger any more than it already is by virtue of being on fire and full of damaged thermal piping. A third shudder -- local, it feels like. Heavy mech, and it's Cerberus, so they'd only use human-produced models, so the options are...

"YMIR mech," Tali mutters over the comm as the station shudders around them.

"Well, _that's_ just common sense," Garrus drawls, rolling his shoulders, stretching his neck. "No delicate, seismically active power plant would be complete without a two-ton machine gun loaded with explosives."

"Ah, you're right. Silly of me to even point it out," Tali laments, only half reciprocating the energy of his quip -- she doesn't deal with being shot at as well as Garrus does, even on a good day. She doubles down on listening at the door, and though faint, she can hear multiple jet engines. Small ones, hissing with effort. "Drones, too. The air is superheated from the atmospheric breach, so the compressors in their positioning engines should struggle with condensing the gas enough to be significantly combustible. The VI normally wouldn't let them respond quickly to positional changes because of the change in ambient conditions, but since they're being controlled by a person who probably doesn't know better, we should be able to easily knock them out of the air."

"You should really give a warning before you start talking dirty," Shepard comments, interlocking her fingers above her head and stretching out her shoulders.

"You still have that bug zapper, Shepard?" Garrus tilts his head back to look to the human, an admiring gaze, despite using a seemingly pejorative nickname.

"Never leave home without it," Shepard replies proudly, pulling the so-called bug zapper from her back.

Tali hasn't seen it in action yet -- she doesn't even know what it's actually _called_. It hasn't really come up, before; Shepard doesn't like to waste the heavy ammo when _incineration tech is practically free, Tali_. Even so, it's clearly a prototype of some sort. It doesn't have that expensive, smooth metal aesthetic: that almost-asari, minimalist design sensibility that Cerberus loves to chase after. Despite being an electrical weapon of some sort, the long barrel suggests tech that implies that it needs the space to store temporary charge; presumably, different charge times have different effects. 

When Shepard storms through that door, Tali quickly sees that what the gun _does_ is zap bugs. The human's finger stays on the trigger for a full five seconds before she points it at the rapidly-adjusting YMIR mech, where a burst of electricity short-circuits the shields before the surge of energy arcs from the mech to the assault drones, which explode in sequence. It's amazing. Balanced, concentrated fire from the three of them quickly takes down the shields, then Shepard ignites the chassis, and it only takes a fraction of a second after the armor melts away for Garrus to shoot the mech's head clean off. Its joints go loose for a few moments as warning beeps sound off and Tali shields herself behind a beam, crouched down with palms on the floor for traction, but the force of the mech's self-detonation still sends her rolling into the wall.

She doesn't black out or anything, not really -- but there is a moment where she loses track of herself, and she comes to with the sound of Garrus chuckling sheepishly, far away, while a ringing noise resounds in her helmet. Shepard's face comes into view, upside down, and Tali feels hands in hers, so she grasps blindly as she gets pulled to her feet.

"Laugh it up, Garrus," Tali sulks, leaning on the human while she regains her balance.

"I can't _help_ it if you weigh nothing," Garrus retorts, flicking his mandibles. "We should really find a way to neutralize those without making them explode, at some point. We've run into enough of them by now. I'm surprised the room didn't come down on us."

"Between the three of us, you'd think we could figure something out," Tali agrees, stepping away from Shepard. "You _have_ to let me take that thing apart, by the way."

"Later, Tali," Shepard promises, gesturing toward the next room with her pistol. "My highly classified Cerberus prototype is your highly classified Cerberus prototype."

* * *

When they enter Vulcan's control center, a lone LOKI mech is desperately shooting at the base of the console. Putting her opinions on AI aside, Tali can't help but feel a little bad watching it go. The processing power for the kill switch would be kept above ground for maintenance in case of an emergency, in case, say, the station was falling apart and the equipment needed to be repaired under duress. Bullets aren't going to pierce flooring that's meant to temporarily withstand lava.

The LOKI turns finally, green haze in its head, but it seems to do a double take almost before it aims at Shepard. Garrus blasts the right arm off in one shot, and when it raises the hand with its firearm, Tali rapidly destroys the other arm at the shoulder with her pistol.

Having no method of stopping them, the VI releases control over the mech and it just seems to shake in place. It can't even attempt a close-range EMP burst now without the contact point in its shoulder to complete the circuit. Shepard just walks past it to kill the station's power. She doesn't even seem phased when the VI roars incomprehensibly over the station comms, again.

" _A-A-A-Are you r-r-r-receiving this-s-s-s-s? Comm-mmander Shep-epard, this-s-s is Dr. Ar-r-rcher, please respon-ond._ "

The clarity is horrible. Tali's team had less interference on Haestrom, and that was the radioactive interference of an entire _star_.

"We hear you, doctor," Shepard says, backtracking. "We've hit the override at Vulcan Station and we're moving on."

Beside her, the LOKI mech seems to be shivering, almost, like it's refusing to look at any of them. Shepard glances up at it for a moment and its head explodes instantly amid a shower of sparks. Beside Tali, Garrus reloads his Mantis, and Shepard just sort of looks at him like she's trying to puzzle him out. He flicks a mandible at her like he's making an excuse.

* * *

" _Geographic conditions indicate an aesthetically pleasing view nearby._ "

Almost imperceptibly, the Hammerhead slows its rapid zipping across a canyon's edge. Shepard turns the entire vehicle at a 90-degree angle to look out toward a 40-meter drop off a cliff, driving the vehicle along a horizontal axis instead, the concept of which makes Tali absolutely nauseous with worry. Shepard doesn't seem to have an ounce of fear in her. She's not even looking outside anymore, leaning her head back so all that fiery red hair drapes vertically against a backdrop of chair so that view beyond her is visible, gazing at the two of them with something that could almost be a smile.

" _Look_ at that."

The Hammerhead VI is right, it _is_ an aesthetically pleasing view. The evening is coming, and the rings of Aite are shifting shades of pink and orange with the setting sun. The moon looms behind it as well, a sight closer than any moon Tali has personally had the pleasure of viewing. This planet is so underdeveloped, there's hardly any light pollution to mar the clarity with which the craters on Litae are visible. The only thing that obstructs the view of the sky are the high cliffs with gorgeous, crystalline waterfalls cascading down, water vapor blanketing the grassy plateaus between rocky outcroppings. The horizon is haloed in mist.

A few of those big herbivores are making their way around in slow herds, long faces with small arms held tight to their bodies. Slender heads and huge eyes don't even seem to acknowledge the dangerous driving, and Shepard expertly pulls the Hammerhead back into their original path, skirting past guns before they have time to arm themselves.

"There's probably a better name for those, but humans just call those things space cows, after an agricultural animal on our homeworld. Nobody's quite sure which planet space cows came from, but I think they're from Ontarom," Shepard mentions, weaving between sheer rock faces and jutting cliffs. "On Earth, there's a custom where if you pass by a herd of cows, you have to lean toward them as close as you can and moo at them until you've passed by."

"That's definitely something you just made up," Garrus replies, almost sounding offended, and Shepard just snorts, taking a hand off the controls to tie her hair back up while she turns the Hammerhead back on a straightforward path.

"I'm probably the most honest person you know, Garrus."

"Nice try. _Tali_ is the most honest person I know."

"We'll moo at them on the way back," Tali promises. The corner of her mouth rose up about a minute ago, but she can't seem to make that side of her face stop smiling.

* * *

Prometheus Station is a geth dreadnought, wired up and used as a source of power for Hermes and Atlas stations. After Gavin's little pep talk about the place, Shepard parks the Hammerhead on the cliffside, just scouting the landscape down below.

"Prometheus is a human myth," Shepard says, more to the wind than to Tali or Garrus. "A titan, a being that predated its cultures pantheon of gods. He's a version of a trickster figure who made humanity out of clay, then stole fire to give them a fighting chance in a world filled with dangerous, wonderful beasts. For his crime, he was chained to a cliff, sentenced to a punishment wherein his innards were eaten by birds every day until the end of time. The gods went on to punish humanity itself by giving us curiosity, which led to unleashing illness and hardship on all of humanity."

Garrus whistles softly.

"That's rough."

"I just want you to understand Cerberus," Shepard mutters, coasting down to a lower level of the rocks, but not quite down to ground level. Tali can see those shield generators glinting in the twilight. "The satellite. Hermes was a messenger between the mortals and the gods. Vulcan was a god of fire. Cerberus itself is a dog that guards the gates to death itself. Prometheus is a story of theft, disrespect, and consequence."

She sounds a little like Thane, right now, or perhaps Liara. Part of Tali wants to tease her, but it's uncommon for Shepard to be so dour, and her morbid curiosity gets the better of her.

"What is Atlas station, then? My translator wants me to call it something like a glossary of maps."

"Nothing good," Shepard mutters, pushing the Hammerhead forward and down from their position. Upon hitting the ground, the ship itself responds instantly to their presence; Tali shakes even as she tracks the nearest shield generator. A few seconds pass as the cannon targets the Hammerhead, and the shot that cracks off where they had just been would have torn clean through the Rayya.

"Shepard," Garrus begins -- mildly, considering the ease with which they could explode at this moment. "We're obviously not letting Cerberus _keep_ the superpowered geth cannon, right?"

" _No_ , of course not."

* * *

" _Attention, visitors. This Cerberus facility contains hazardous AI technology. You agree to assume all liability for personal injuries or death that may occur during your visit._ " 

Just stepping inside feels like freezing to death, like everything crystallized a little when the door closed behind them and the sunlight disappeared. A mist seeps down from the hydraulics -- Cerberus retrofitted the airlocks with their own version, at least on entry. Shepard jumps to spear one camera with her omni-blade and Garrus overloads the second one before the open the next hatch.

"Playing with fire," Tali says quietly, eyeing the Prime unit with its very own stasis generator. "I immediately see the metaphor."

Shepard keeps her pistol trained on the Prime as they maneuver around it, but it doesn't move, doesn't recognize their movement at all. Tali keeps her pistol in hand as she taps on her omni-tool, scanning the dormant geth. Nothing, but it could be the stasis field interfering.

"I don't see any humans," Garrus mutters, and that's as close as they're going to get to acknowledging the elcor in the room.

"We have to move forward," Shepard says simply, pulling that electrical weapon off her back. "Tali, map our course as we go. Garrus, keep an eye on cover, I might need you to supplement me."

" _Hanging around all these dor-dor-dormant machines is creepy,_ " comes a distorted voice from up ahead. Tali sees the console -- it's been knocked over in the rubble. The wall behind it is bathed in a hissing mist of loose atmosphere, coils of wire hanging heavy on the dim, grey walls like a spider's web. " _It-It's like death staring at us from the shadows._ "

"The VI could have evacuated the geth that were online," Garrus suggests, though he doesn't sound particularly convinced by his own idea. "Before we showed up, I mean. To fortify Atlas station. It would explain why it didn't try to lure us in close before he activated the cannon."

"Maybe," Tali says, but she puts even less belief into her voice. Nobody wants to verbally acknowledge the situation they're in, lest the VI hear them.

A monitoring system shrieks out with a flare of green and the VI's distorted roar as Tali passes by it, and she jumps nearly two feet in the air, shoulders crashing into the guard railing as she falls backward. Garrus scoops her back with a hand and Shepard takes a breath, shooting the camera behind it.

"Stand behind me until there's trouble," Shepard murmurs, well below her usual volume.

"This reminds me of Noveria," Garrus remarks, keeping his voice low. "Hot labs. That guy on the floor..."

"Tartakovsky," Shepard replies grimly. Tali wonders how she does that. Even Tali has forgotten a few names before, and she doesn't even _know_ that many people anymore. "Nobody's coming to a bad end, today."

The next door they get to is of geth construction. The hydraulics hiss as they walk through, and Tali can't help but find herself slightly distracted by the way it's built in here -- to her knowledge, nobody has ever been on a geth ship, or if they have, they certainly haven't lived to speak about it. It's dimly lit -- though presumably, the lighting is the doing of Cerberus. As they move forward, more circular doors mirror the walls on either side of the hallway.

Optics don't seem a concern that geth would really have, but there are translucent barriers serving as facsimiles of windows, the same blue, hexagonal pattern they seemed so fond of when they were with Saren repeating over and over again in stable grid. It looks the same as the technology used to generate temporary omni-blades. Tali's best guess is that the barriers have a more practical purpose than visual -- they function the same as a wall, but they can be disabled or overridden in an emergency, allowing platforms to vault over the stabilizing frame. The translucence is likely incidental, not purposeful.

While the VI attempts to catch them off-guard, at least, she has the opportunity to scan the structures with her omni-tool. How old is this Prometheus Station, compared to the rest of the geth fleet? Is this modern technology for them, or is it outdated? Whatever the case, it seems like something Admiral Xen would be interested in. Maybe she can toy with it herself, see about making Chatika a little more robust.

The ship seems to lurch as Shepard activates another console, triggering another voice log.

" _Lanigan just ran a simulation -- if these geth ever wake up, there's a 98% chance we'll be dead within two minutes. I'm starting to hate Lanigan._ "

"Me too, buddy," Garrus mutters.

"Don't let it get in your head," Shepard says, batting him in the arm with the side of a curled hand. "The scientists here weren't armed or armored."

When Shepard opens the next door, the door ahead of her closes and the kinetic interface doesn't pop back up.

"Not a big fan of that," Garrus notes, continuing not to observe their unspoken agreement to mostly stay quiet.

"Garrus," Shepard warns, stepping forward to inspect the door. "He disabled interface projection completely, I don't think I'd be able to open this without a crowbar. Or Jack."

"I wonder if he's leading us _toward_ something or away from something," Tali ponders aloud, carefully inching her way around the corner to see what's there.

Her blood goes cold at the sight of nearly two dozen geth, haphazardly piled up on shelves around what looks like a makeshift workbench. One platform sits on the floor with its back against the wall, arms open at its sides, fingers weakly curled upward in an echo of rigor mortis, its head slightly askew. She's not sure if they look more like corpses or abandoned dolls. Neither approximation is comforting.

"Geth over here," Tali mentions, returning to the other two. "My omni-tool isn't picking anything up as far as activity, but that doesn't mean much right now..."

"Let's just keep an eye on it, just in case," Shepard agrees. The floor shudders suddenly under their feet, another grating roar filling the dilapidated ship. Tali catches a wince on Shepard's face, this time, though she quickly turns away.

Garrus steadies himself against a wall, more at risk of toppling over than his shorter companions. "Is this place stable?"

"It has to be," Shepard says, dragging her hand along a wall as she moves forward. "For as long as it takes."

Garrus breaks the silence again almost immediately to ask Shepard a mundane question, but Tali is too focused on the implication of her omni-tool picking up no activity signals in the geth platforms they've come across. Should she have shot them now? Would the VI have just powered them up right then? They can't be _truly_ disconnected and lifeless, otherwise, how has the VI been accessing the other geth platforms they've been fighting? Her only other running theory is that the geth ship, itself, could be stifling signals on her omni-tool, the way the geth employed by Saren did back in 2183. She finds herself, again, wondering how old this station is -- when was it built by the geth, and in relation to that, when it crashed. The latter is likely far more indicative of its technological capabilities.

Tali _thought_ she had solved geth signal jamming on the couch in Garrus' apartment way back when, putting up signal barriers in the tiny room and fiddling with a mutilated geth jammer in her pocket until her head ached and her stomach swam. The turian would come back from a long shift cleaning up geth in the Wrds and they would both end up somewhat collapsed over the couch, Tali's knees hooked over the back with her head on the floor, Garrus just bent in the middle with his forehead on his knees and knuckles on the floor, sighing for 30 minutes at a time in his dinged up C-Sec blues before he would finally shower and change. _Days_ before she was picked up from the Citadel, she finished brute-forcing it and sent Garrus back to work with a workaround: she thought that was the last of it.

Had she cracked Reaper technology back then, rather than geth? If this is different, then it should be easier to figure out, at least -- if she could figure out whether something was wrong to begin with. Her omni-tool at least had the decency to tell her signals were being jammed back in the day, but those were small devices, powered by individual geth. Is it possible for the signal jamming to be strong that the omni-tool doesn't even register that it's being jammed? Perhaps the active signals have been masked, somehow? Anything is possible. This is an entire geth ship: with this amount of power, it could cause an EMP that could easily destroy Adrasteia, frying all the platforms aboard in the process. In that one way, geth and batarians are actually pretty similar.

"Careful," Shepard says under her breath, breaking Tali from her train of thought. There's an eerie, blue glow in this wide open area, several of these kinetic geth windows illuminating a wide, open space between locked rooms. If they were organic, she would guess that this place served as a mess hall or cafeteria, but they're not, so she has no idea what it could be. Garrus is the one to start the next log, a troubled look already twitching across his features.

" _The VI's closing some passages and leaving others open. It's-- It's like it's herding us,_ " that familiar voice from the other logs starts up again, a hushed whisper this time. " _At least the geth are still dormant._ "

When the VI roars this time, it shakes the wide room with its reverberations, and Tali winces -- her translator is trying to resolve what she's hearing, this time, but it just means an error message keeps blinking on her omni-tool. A quick intake of breath from Shepard, and when she looks over, she can see the human biting her lower lip, a hand balled at her side.

"Shepard," Tali pries, cautious with her tone.

"It hurts," Shepard says: straightforward, so neutrally that Tali thinks she must feel strongly about whatever gears are turning in her head. "Does that feel like pain to you? Those sounds?"

"They hurt my head," Tali offers. "But I think that's normal, for something that loud."

"It does kind of hurt," Garrus confesses, sounding almost reluctant to say something about it. "Turians are pretty sensitive to vibrations. Every time he sounds off it feels like having a rock smashed over my head by a baby vorcha."

"Okay." The answer seems to placate Shepard's nerves and she sighs, rolling her shoulders. "Thought it might just be me. Let's go."

She forges on ahead again at a quicker pace, presumably to make up for the lost time. Tali can't help but sidle up a little closer to Garrus, keeping her voice down.

"Why a baby vorcha, specifically?"

"All of the violence, none of the predictability."

Garrus jumps at the sound of Shepard's pistol going off, but it was just another camera. Tali gives a shaky exhale as they step through another door -- the ship is creaking in a way that sounds simultaneously like geth and _breathing_ , like the whole ship is just a gigantic, dying animal. The next hallway is hardly welcoming; the suspended platforms that make up the floor have been smashed downward into the space below, underneath a large pool of viscous liquid -- hydraulic fluid, if Tali had to guess. A few severed wires spark dangerously overhead, draping from the ceiling.

" _To all Cerberus personnel,_ " the station VI pipes up, suddenly. " _In an effort to reduce workplace stress, music has been approved for stationwide broadcast._ "

Something that might once have been a jaunty classical tune plays over the station comms, but it quickly slows and degrades into a creepy, quiet backdrop for their incursion into the heart of the station. This room is badly damaged -- what could have happened here to so badly wreck such a central part of the ship? Perhaps geth sabotage, specifically attempting to thwart Cerberus attempts to study their technology when the ship was boarded?

" _Shepard, a scan of the geth ship indicates that the security override for Prometheus Station is located at the center of this room,_ " comes EDI's voice over comms.

Okay, maybe the VI isn't jamming their signals.

There are large panels of flooring, all a bit too far away, and however deep this room is, it's impossible to tell through whatever is flooding the room. Maybe it's actually omni-gel? She's doubtful it could just be water, despite the steam that's been pouring out of a few areas of the ship. It's too far inside the ship, too well protected to be gathering rainwater.

The panels are moving around, suddenly, liquid splashing a few feet below. When Tali looks to Shepard, she's tapping at a console at the top of the bridge, evidently reordering the usable platforms. In seconds, they have a viable path. It's dark here, aside from the monitor overlooking the override plunger, but even in the dark, Tali can see the gurneys, the piles of human bodies lined against the debris.

"Shepard..."

She's choosing to ignore it, this time, pulling the plunger up to finally, finally finish deactivating the security protocols.

" _Override of Atlas Station lockdown accepted._ "

The VI screams again, and Shepard has already turned around, gunning down a geth platform only just stumbling to its feet.

"And there's the catch."

Tali's combat scanner is lit up like all the neon in the Wards, to the point where she actually can't distinguish between targets. Garrus keeps twitching his gaze around in front of him -- something on his visor, most likely, probably the same thing Tali is seeing now, but in a three-dimensional space.

"Just like the hot labs," he chuckles, readying his Mattock.

"The hot labs blew up," Shepard reminds him, pulling that heavy weapon from Vulcan Station off her back again.

"All the more reason to get moving, then," Tali says, impatiently pulling forward to exit back the way they came. She can hear Garrus snickering, even as he falls in line at her back. If she's going to be stuck in this situation with anyone, at least it's these fear-no-death idiots.

* * *

"You know," Tali says, brushing a bit of geth debris out of her scarf. "When we walked in there, I knew we were going to have to fight that stupid Prime."

"We know," Garrus says for the third time, repairing the damage to his armor with his omni-tool. It's just a patch job until they can get back to the fabricator in the armory, but it's better than nothing.

"I was looking at it thinking, we are definitely going to have to fight this Prime. How stupid we are to continue forward when we haven't deactivated this Prime? We should deactivate this Prime. But did we deactivate the Prime?"

"We _know,_ " Garrus says for a fourth time, changing out the ammo on his Mattock.

"I didn't see you figuring out a solution for the statis field," Shepard points out, making a sharp turn. While the drive from Vulcan to Prometheus was almost scenic, this is more like an action movie, all time-saving maneuvers and desperately wishing for stronger inertial dampeners. "Besides, if we got it out of there that soon, the VI likely would have just activated it then. We still would have had to fight it, and for all the geth that we had to fight on the way there, he would have had time to get backup. Even more geth, if you think about it."

"None of your points are unreasonable, Shepard," Tali agrees, touching all of her fingers together in front of her helmet, then tilting them toward Shepard. "However, consider this: I really hated every second of that."

"Consider it considered.."

"You know, if one of the Admirals asked me to infiltrate a geth ship with only two other people, I would think them unfit for their position."

"Uh-huh."

"You are really very lucky that I like you so much," Tali finishes, arms crossed as she leans back in her seat.

"I know," Shepard says, with this strange, faraway tone to it. It catches Tali so off-guard, she almost wants to take back her exaggerated tirade.

"She really told you, Commander," Garrus says with just enough sarcasm to throw off his delicate deadpan, clearly not getting the same, weirdly fragile vibe off of Shepard that she just did.

"I've been made aware," Shepard sighs faux-dramatically, apparently all back to normal. Was she hearing things? "I'll never live down the knowledge that someday, Tali's fealty may wane. I'll just have to live every day as if it's my last."

"Shepard," Tali says, her tone completely sober. "You already live like that."

There's no response as the Hammerhead pulls to a hard stop, then it moves into the dim light of a Cerberus bunker.

Atlas Station.

* * *

" _Looks like you're in, Commander,_ " Gavin says as they park the Hammerhead on a small platform. He sounds more nervous than he has since they've arrived. " _Good. I'm getting some troubling readings, though._ "

The catwalk here is a wide grate, barely lit, and before they've even really stepped inside the facility, there are casualties. Human bodies, arms outstretched toward the platform they had just arrived on, all in those same standard issue fatigues. Papers scattered beside them, stuck together and soaked with blood. Without their faces visible, that one could easily be Kelly. This one, Gabby. One of the bodies is crushed into the supporting pole of a badly deformed railing, and Tali doesn't want to think about the state of the person who must have been pushed over its edge. Aiding disaster sites is always somewhat upsetting, but she didn't think it would be hard to distance herself from another failed Cerberus experiment.

This one is starting to hit too close to home for comfort.

The next room is in shambles; blood intermixed with bullet marks in the wall behind the front desk, a dead human, draped over his swivel chair. The lights are sparking, barely hanging from the ceiling. Papers are scattered all over the floor.

" _The VI is trying to upload its program directly from your location. Get to the server room and shut down the core be-be-be--_ "

" _Archer log 155.2,_ " comes Gavin's voice, interrupting incoming comms. This Gavin is calm, cool, collected. He barely sounds like the same person. " _For years, my brother's condition has been a handicap. That changed today. His autistic mind is the breakthrough I've been looking for -- he can communicate with the geth!_ "

Tali can hear Shepard take a deep breath, turning toward the locked door in front of them.

" _It seems serendipity is alive and well in the 22nd century._ "

The door opens as the log finishes out. Shepard strides wordlessly through it, left hand clenched into a tight ball at her side.

The hallway ahead is just as trashed, just as inscrutable. So many destroyed wires drape off of the installed lights that Tali is surprised it's still illuminated in here. As they approach an open door, it closes in front of them -- the locked door at the dead end toward the end of the hallway opens instead. The lights here are flickering, and the floor is charred and pockmarked by gunshots. Broken geth platforms are strewn all over the stairs. Garrus overloads the camera here while Shepard strides to the end of the hallway. All three doors there close simultaneously, interfaces flicking between red, orange, and green as they toggle between inaccessible, locked, and unlocked. Finally, the one on the left opens. Shepard steps through into a large office.

"Shepard," Tali begins, but she's immediately cut off by another log.

" _Archer log 157.8: Unless he sees results, the Illusive Man is shutting us down next week. I have no choice. I'm going to tap David directly into the geth neural network and see if he can influence them._ "

 _David._ Hearing his name hits Tali like a cruiser at top speed. It's a person, this is a person. Did she know his name, before? Did Shepard mention it? Had they asked?

" _The danger should be negligible. David might even enjoy it._ "

Shepard steps down the stairs to the elevator, hitting the call button once.

" _Arriving at level 2,_ " the automated voice calls. Screens flicker to life across the room, all illuminated with the number. None of them should be functioning this way. Shepard looks out over the screens, but hits the call button another three times. " _Arriving at level 2. Arriving at level 6. System malfunction._ "

"Okay," Shepard says, watching the lights at the top as the elevator gets all the way back to zero. She hits the button again.

" _Arriving at level 2,_ " says the voice again.

" _Access denied,_ " comes another voice from Tali's left. Garrus recoils sheepishly from the terminal he touched. " _Level 3 access required._ "

"Sorry. I thought you might still want me collecting logs..."

"No, that was helpful, actually." Shepard turns around to survey the room, inspecting each of the consoles that have responded to the elevator. "I think I get it."

Shepard spends the next few minutes examining each of the lit up terminals in the office, glancing through sheafs of paperwork and tapping at datapads, replacing them exactly where they had been. If she hadn't gone into the military, she seems like she would have made an excellent scientist. Or professional busybody.

"I think he's just trying to scare us, Shepard," Garrus admits, shifting uncomfortably. "We might just have to pry the shaft open and hope that there's still a functional maintenance ladder."

"No," Shepard says, shuffling through some papers at a desk to their right. "It's just a sort of abstract addition puzzle. We're trying to call it to the 7th floor from the maintenance floor, floor 0. Tali, can you hack into that terminal for me? The one Garrus touched before."

"Sure," Tali says, though she's entirely unsure on the why. Cerberus is usually pretty hard to crack, but the security on this is easy to get through in about 30 seconds. When she finishes up on her omni-tool, rather than clearing off the blue 2 on the screen, it just changes to a 3.

Shepard gives a pleased nod when she sees the number change, then heads straight back to the elevator. "Hit the execute key on the terminal for me"

Tali does so.

" _Arriving at level 5,_ " comes the automated voice. Shepard hits the call button again. " _Arriving at level 7._ "

The instant the elevator has audibly docked in place, something from the other side is blowtorching its way through the doors. Shepard sighs, returning back to the high ground, prepping her Widow as Tali and Garrus get into position. When the door opens, though, David roars -- the first roar since they've entered Atlas Station, and the loudest one so far. Shepard recoils, curling her arms around her knees and hitting her rifle so hard against her shin plating that it makes an audible cracking sound. It's _bad_ , but it's not that bad. 

Tali activates a combat drone to distract the Prime that steps out of the elevator while Garrus takes out the troopers with quick, surgical headshots. Shepard gets up in time to crack a shot through the Prime's head just as the shields come down -- the one place on the body its armor doesn't shield it. It crumples to the ground with a clatter and Shepard wordlessly enters the elevator, Garrus and Tali right behind her.

Shepard's not going to talk about it, so she won't bring it up.

"How did you figure out which console to use so quickly? I just figured we were going to use the console I hacked to call the elevator a different way."

"M-ONE console on the wall. Probably add one." Shepard says, shrugging. "Call button adds two. Between the 3rd level clearance and 3D diagnostic console, I ended up going with the former for three because all of the paperwork on the table for the latter was about decomposition simulations. If I had to guess, that's subtraction. The only one we know is consistent is the call button. The elevator is probably damaged, so I wanted to call it up in as few floors as possible."

"Yes," Garrus says, looking around. "The elevator we are currently on is most likely damaged."

The doors slide shut. It sinks down one floor.

" _Arriving at level 6,_ " comes that automated voice. The platform slows, then goes back up.

David screams, forcing Garrus to lean against the wall, Shepard to her knees.

" _Please contact facility support,_ " the elevator VI offers. It drops another floor, then the unlocked door before them locks, smoke billowing through the grating in the floor. " _This elevator is not in service. Please choose another._ "

Tali's having trouble keeping her balance. The number on the wall says they're on level 3, but they're suddenly rising in the shaft again.

"Smoke detected. Please extinguish all cigarettes. This is a non-smoking facility."

The elevator goes all the way back to the top, then falls straight to the bottom, just fast enough that it miraculously doesn't seem to break anything. Shepard pushes herself up from the floor with her arms and lets out one of the big sighs, from when she's particularly vexed, but at least the doors open on this level. If they didn't open directly into a handful of geth platforms, Tali could have been able to maybe reason out that David wasn't _explicitly_ trying to kill them, but this really just adds insult to injury. Her shins are _killing_ her.

" _Archer log 168.4: I'd be lying if I said no harm could come to David. His autistic mind is as alien to me as an actual alien._ " Tali can actually see Shepard shaking as she surveys the room, holding her Widow by the barrel in a tight grip. Garrus is watching, too, but they both keep their mouths shut. " _Anything could happen when we plug him in. But I have to try, don't I?_ "

Shepard attacks the lock on the next door, practically kicking the door down with her haste. Next door is unlocked, but there's something... wrong, with the interface. When the human goes to open it, the projection itself rises on the door, sliding along the wall until it's in a correct place on a door to their left. Tali thinks she can hear the sounds of geth chatter, distorted. This doesn't feel right.

"Shepard," Tali tries again, but Shepard just shakes her head, once, hard, hair flying up in a hurricane of crimson around her head.

"This has to stop. No matter what it takes."

David has led them directly to the VI server, but considering the hours of hostile geth, possessed elevators, and exploding mechs, Tali reserves the right to be a little distrustful.

"Get ready," Shepard says. "I wouldn't be surprised if this button summoned a Reaper."

Garrus rolls his head back at her to indicate she's being dramatic, but Tali shares the sentiment, really. When she puts her hand on the button to shut down the core, the lights dim, like the power's surging. Normal enough, but then there's an electric crackle where Shepard's hand meets the console. That same, green face made of blocks materializes before them with another incomprehensible roar and Shepard buckles forward, arms sinking through the interface to brace herself on the console. The roaring continues this time, like David is trying to talk -- continuing to. It sounds so much like _geth_.

"Shepard," Garrus says, reaching a hand out, but she just reels back to look at him and he stops moving. His face is illuminated green and he looks shocked still. Shepard turns to Tali and she feels her body freeze up as well.

Those blue eyes are lit up the same color as the geth optics, the blocks on the screen, everything here. Radioactive green, shining out of her face -- solid light.

"Shep--" Tali starts, but the human just looks through her. Suddenly, she's stumbling out the door, falling to her knees. Garrus isn't reacting, his fingers just keep curling, uncurling, completely unsure how to handle this. Tali doesn't know what to do either. "Shepard--"

Shepard's head turns abruptly, looking down the hallway. She scrambles to her feet in hot pursuit of something and the door slams behind her, even as Garrus -- belatedly -- rams into it. Locked door interfaces begin popping up all over the door, like a pox. Tali rushes forward, touching each interface, trying to determine if one of them is _real_.

"Tali," and he sounds so scared, just ramming his shoulder back into the door. " _Tell_ me you can open this door."

"I'm _trying_ ," she insists, standing high up on her toes to reach one of the higher interface projections. That one's fake. She checks her omni-tool for local targets, helplessly watching Shepard's beacon weave away from them on her positional projection until she's gone. Garrus joins her in checking for the right interface, but all it does is make it easier to lose track of the ones she's checked. This one? That one? Those two are practically on top of each other. Did Garrus get that one?

He steps away, breathing hard, just staring off through the wall while Tali steps back and tries to come up with another solution.

Minutes pass, agonizingly. He keeps turning his head like he's looking at something, and she tries to ignore it. There's no way to depower the door from this side -- potentially, they could try to destroy the highly charged power conduits on either side of the room, but they would probably explode, and whatever happened to Shepard, it could potentially hurt her, too, if she's still... influenced, infected, whatever David did to her. Touching the console again seems like a bad idea.

Suddenly, Garrus rams into the door with his shoulder again. Tali shoves him toward the railing this time, face suddenly hot with fear and anger.

"Stop _doing_ that! What are we going to do if you dislocate your shoulder like an idiot and the geth from the other room get in here? We're outnumbered. Maybe if I could _hack_ these geth we'd have a chance, but they short out my omni-tool. Just _think_ for once!"

"I don't _care_ ," he hisses, slamming a fist against the door. "I lost her heat signature. She's out there _alone_. What is _she_ going to do--"

"Calm _down_." Tali shoves him in the chest and he wobbles on his feet. "The door opens with horizontal force, _not_ vertical, and they're both supported on all sides by thick walls of metal. This is a bunker, these walls _will_ survive the maximum velocity of a pissed off turian." His mandibles are still quivering, but the way the ridges of his nose are bunching up, it at least looks like he's taking deep breaths. Tali calms her own voice down, trying to do the same. "If we can't open it along the tracks in the floor, we're not going to be able to open it."

"Okay. Okay." He breathes out. "EDI?" Garrus waits for a moment, uncrossing his arms, looking upward, as if he could see the sky. "EDI?"

"If David can reach the satellite with a signal from this deep, the Normandy should be able to reach us," Tali says, turning back to the door to continue trying interface locks. None of them respond to her touch, and she tries them all twice. It's equally futile, but she tries to see if it's feasible to sink her fingers into the curved indentation where the two doors meet. Her gloves are too thick, though; too rounded to fit, even if they could exert the force required to part the doors.

" _Node acquired,_ " comes the voice of the station VI. " _Normandy SR-2 is within range. Attempting to establish upload link._ "

_That's not good._

She steps back from the door, trying to think of something she could theoretically do. Normally, there would be an maintenance panel somewhere on the wall you she could get into and just sever the power -- the door would go into emergency mode and automatically fall open, but the design of this room and inaccessible wall space means that the panel is on the _other_ side of the door. She can't reach it. If either of them had powerful biotics, they could potentially force their way through, or if there were accessible air vents, she could probably crawl through, but--

"Nothing?" Garrus sounds helpless. He's always fighting to be in control of every new situation, this must be killing him.

For once, Tali feels grateful for leaving at least some parts of her life up to others. If she hadn't taken Captain Kar'Danna's mission to Freedom's Progress, she never would have had time to come to terms with Shepard being alive in time to trust her on Haestrom. Veetor would have rescued by Shepard's team, sure, but without Tali there, there probably wouldn't have been any quarians left to bring him home.

Haestrom taught her to be productive while trapped in a locked room surrounded by geth. She can handle this.

Tali breathes out.

"Not yet. I can try to rig together something like the blowtorch the geth were using, but it won't be as effective..."

She hops up to sit precariously on the railing between the main floor and the power conduits, copying Chatika's programming on her omni-tool and heavily editing the copy. Remove the EMP capability and the shockwave on dismissal, she _should_ have enough power for a sustained, short range, targeted burst. Not for long, though. Perhaps they can break through the lock the way the geth broke through the lock on the elevator? These things have large metal bars that shift horizontally from either side, so she'd have to be able to break through all of them, top to bottom...

The lights flicker, and when they do, the polygonal face above the console contorts, another shriek filling the room, shaking the floor, and with it, the railing she's sitting on. Tali helicopters her arms on either side to try to keep from falling back and getting electrocuted as the power surges, but Garrus is quick with an arm behind her back, urging her back onto the floor.

" _Attempting to establish upload link,_ " that voice says again. " _Connection lost._ "

"Be more careful," he says, with a sobriety she's never really heard from him. "I can't be alone in here."

"Okay," Tali says, gently. Garrus turns back to the door, inspecting that same crevice between the doors the way she just had.

"If it wasn't so heavy, I could probably jimmy it apart enough with my claws that we could pull it open."

"And that's _exactly_ why it's so heavy," Tali deadpans. She sits up and activates Chatika -- well, not really Chatika. It's just a remote-controlled torch drone. Torchy? She guides it over to the door and angles its face downward before starting the torch protocol, slowly tilting upward so that the torch has time to completely get through the locks inside. After about 25 seconds of work, Torchy deactivates and Tali's omni-tool needs to recharge. Garrus glances at her where she's sat on the floor, legs crossed.

"Has anyone told you that you sit weird?"

"No, because that would be pretty rude." Once the executable is ready again, Tali brings Torchy back up to continue where it left off.

"Whenever you come into the battery, you always have to sit on top of a console. Or under it. Or on the railing." He gestures vaguely at her. "And now that you can't sit on the railing, you're just... sitting on the floor."

"I hurt my legs when the elevator crashed. Not that it _matters_ , I can sit on the floor if I want to."

"You used to sit on the couch in my apartment completely upside down," he continues, staring at the door. His arms are crossed again. "Half the time when we're in the ship bar, you sit on the floor instead of the couch. Or a chair."

Torchy runs out of juice, again. Tali threads her fingers together and takes a deep breath, trying to muster the strength to be patient with him. He's trying to distract himself, that doesn't mean she can afford to get distracted, too.

" _Please_ stop trying to ruin sitting for me."

"I'm _not_. It's just something I noticed." He's quiet for a minute as she goes through another two deployments of the drone. The lights flicker again, but there's no accompanying roar. The green light from the display vanishes, along with the face. Garrus looks further away this time, in the direction Shepard toward. "Your helmet cracked when we landed on the catwalk, earlier. Are you going to be okay?"

The drone is about halfway through the door, now. Tali sighs and leans against the rail.

"I took antihistamines in the Hammerhead, so I should be fine, but I probably won't know if I'll have a reaction until later. You patched it up pretty quick, though, so when I get sick, I doubt it will be that bad."

"Good," Garrus says, turning back to look at Tali. He seems to have eased up a little. They're still trapped, and Shepard is still missing, but if the power fluctuations are any indication, she's still alive, and whatever she's doing is working. "What do you think... happened to her?"

"I have no idea. I'm surprised she hasn't come back for us."

"Well, what could she do? She doesn't have the rocket launcher, so we'd still be stuck in here." Garrus takes a deep breath, leaning against the railing, gripping the edge of it tightly with both hands. "I don't even know if she registered that we were still here. When she looked up... it was like I didn't exist."

"Yeah."

The power fluctuates a third time, and this time, all of the locking interfaces disappear off the door. Tali scrambles to her feet as the door unlocks of its own accord, Torchy disappearing into fractured light. Garrus is already barreling down the hallway, and she struggles to keep pace, hurtling over the edge of a window, past a group of intact inactive geth, only catching up when he has to call an elevator in a large office. There are fresh bullet holes adorning this room, but all in one general direction -- no geth. Garrus seems to have taken a keen interest, as well.

"Was she hallucinating...?"

Tali peers through the window from the other side of the elevator rail. There's some huge machine in the center of the room, but it's hard to see what it is. Shepard and Gavin are talking, and without Garrus there to provide variety, he looms over her, gesturing to the machine, gesturing at Shepard. They're arguing, probably.

"She's down there with Dr. Archer," Tali says, pressing a hand to the glass. He must have said something: Shepard's body language changes in an instant and she pistol whips the guy -- Gavin comes back at her and she follows it with a punch that sends him sliding a few feet across the polished floors. Even from here, Tali can see Shepard's arm shaking, fist clenched at her side. "They're having a disagreement."

"That seemed inevitable," Garrus replies, stepping onto the platform. He sounds so much calmer, knowing that she's okay. Tali hops onto the platform as well and they descend toward the core. Shepard is already limping toward the elevator when they arrive on the floor, but she straightens up and quickens her pace when she sees them arrive. Out of the corner of her eye, Tali notices Garrus looks up at the machine with an alarmed look on his face. Tali sees... legs, maybe, but everything else is obscured by heavy, complex machinery. Shepard takes her position between the two and sighs with a not-unearned exhaustion.

"Get me out of here," she rasps. "Before I change my mind and kill that man."

"That's not you," Garrus chides, mildly, starting up the lift again. Shepard halfheartedly glares at him, but his mandible just twitches up in a smug half-grin.

"I couldn't do that to David," she says, quietly. "But I really, _really_ wanted to kill him."

"But you didn't," Garrus insists. He offers an arm, which Shepard instantly leans on.

"Ugh," Shepard says, and collapses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my friend Tae for being my sort-of-beta, and to you, for giving me the motivation to keep going.


End file.
